The Bookkeeper
by trainwreque
Summary: CIA agent Bella Swan lives a meticulous, by-the-book life. Her world is turned upside down after she's given a high profile case. Does she tell the truth, or does she continue to lie to the man she's fallen in love with in order to bring down one of the worlds biggest crime bosses? AH. Rated M. Canon. ON HAITUS, HOPING TO RETURN BY SUMMER 2019.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** Stephanie Meyer owns twilight.

* * *

 **PROLOGUE**

The sun's rays hit the open window next to the bed and filter in to the room, waking me out of the best sleep I've had in ages. I crack open one eye and glance at the clock on the bedside table. I can't remember the last time I slept in until 9:00am, but I'm not surprised.

He's changed a lot about me.

I feel the bed shift slightly and suddenly an arm wraps around me and pulls me back flush against a warm and toned body. He starts a trail of kisses from behind my ear, down my neck, ending at my shoulder.

I turn my head and finish opening my eyes to gaze into his emerald ones.

"Good morning, beautiful."

"Good morning," I grunt, my coarse voice a stark comparison to his angelic one.

I feel him grow against my backside as his smile only deepens.

"Oh, well, good morning!" I say again, fully awake now, while giggling like a little school girl. Another thing that he's changed… I never giggle.

He smirks and then disappears under the covers.

I prop myself up on my elbows and look down confused. Suddenly I'm given the reason to his disappearance when I feel his hot tongue connect with my apex. I gasp and my head rolls back while I let him lavish me with his mouth.

"Oh God…." I whimper as my fingers find solace in his smooth hair and tug.

I feel two of his fingers slide into me, they pump fast while his tongue works my clit over slowly. The two different motions work in perfect harmony to bring me closer to my climax.

He moans against me, the vibrations along with the unexpected curving of his fingers send me over the edge and I chant his name over and over loudly.

The wet kisses I feel trailing up my body help me come back down. I open my eyes and for the second time today, I'm met with the most beautiful colored eyes.

His eyes hold a tenderness behind them that I didn't see the night before. We don't talk, we don't need to. Our bodies convey everything that needs to be said between the soft caresses and the slow kisses.

He slips inside me and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. He begins moving slowly, pushing himself entirely inside me then slowly pulling out, reveling in the joining of our bodies. He holds himself up with one arm above my head and uses the other to explore my body. When the tension begins to build, he starts to move faster, harder. Reaching over, he brings my leg up over his hip and starts to pump into me with much more force. I grab onto his shoulders for support and dig my fingers in his skin.

"Oh fuck, you're so beautiful, you know that?" He groans over me, his eyes roaming all over my body as if trying to commit it to memory.

I silently reach a hand behind his neck and bring him down towards me, kissing him hard. It's a little sloppy due to the rapid motion of our hips, but that doesn't deter me from showing how I feel about him.

His fingers find my center again, the pressure in my stomach building much faster than before which makes me cry out. He rests his head on my shoulder, his kisses on my neck are rushed and inconsistent as he meets me thrust for thrust.

"Come for me, beautiful."

Just like that I come undone. I feel my walls spasming around him as he finds his own release.

He cries out the name of another woman, and reality smacks me so hard in the face that tears spring to my eyes immediately.

He rides out his climax and pulls out of me slowly. I wince at the feeling of being disconnected and blink rapidly, trying to dispel the tears quickly before he notices. Of course, he looks up just as one big fat traitor tear rolls down the side of my face. He smiles tenderly at me and kisses it away, whispering words of affection I don't hear over the ringing in my ears.

I start thinking back, trying to pin point when my life went to shit and how I ended up here, in this fucked up situation.

"Marie?"

I'm brought out of my trance and focus back on the green orbs that are looking down at me with concern. I blink once before I realize he's calling my name. Well, what he believes to be my name.

"Are you alright?" He asks, his hands roam down my body, accessing its state and making sure he hasn't hurt me.

"Yeah, yes. Sorry, I just…" I can't think of anything to say to him. That I what? Got choked up because the man I'm completely and irrevocably in love with doesn't know my real name? That I continue to lie to him when he has done nothing but open up to me?

"I know…"

My eyes snap back to his, he smiles at me, trying to silently convey that he understands what I'm feeling, that he's feels the same. _If only he knew the truth, he wouldn't be looking at me like that._

More tears spring to my eyes at the fact that he believes I was crying because I was overcome with emotion, and not because of the guilt and shame.

I push everything I'm feeling back down and lock it up. I can't think like that, not after all the work I have left to do.

I just pray to whatever God is listening that he can forgive me when this is all over.

* * *

 **A/N:**

I just wrote this short snippet for now. I have the first chapter done already but I'm not sure if I'll post it right away, I'd like to see what kind of reaction this gets first!

Let me know your thoughts, I'd love to hear them! :)


	2. The Yogurt Debacle

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.**

* * *

 **THE YOGURT DEBACLE**

I turn over on my back and lay awake in bed, listening to the quiet rustling of trees and light rain shower outside of my window. My morning routine starts before I even get out of bed. I tick off everything I need to get done as I try and find patterns in the textured paint. The list is short since it's the Friday after a completed assignment.

 _Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

I reach out and tap my phone screen to turn off my alarm, signaling it's 5:00am.

Stretching out, I revel in the fact that I didn't fall asleep reading a case file and that I've woken up in my own bed. There are no signs of work in my room right now. No papers scattered all over my grey bed sheets, no half eaten dinner on the bedside table, and my eyelids aren't stuck together from yesterday's mascara that I forgot to remove before bed. That rarely happens, but when it does it results in nothing but a very happy Isabella.

I hear the sheets ruffle a little bit but don't feel any movement. I'm assaulted by a small head of midnight black fur. Nox, executing her own morning routine, lays on my chest and purrs softly.

"Hey Noxy…" I scratch softly behind her neck, her favorite spot, and she purrs harder in appreciation.

"I'll give you all the loving you want this weekend, but now I have to get up for work."

I sit up and shuffle towards the bathroom and look back as I reach the doorway. Nox's amber colored eyes hold my brown ones with steely resolve as she paws my reading glasses and knocks them off the nightstand onto ground. She then proceeds to saunter out of the room, proud of her achievements in letting me know how unacceptable my behavior has been.

"Little slut…" I mutter under my breath. Careful for her not to hear, or she might tear up my pillows again.

I hop in the shower and take several long minutes to appreciate the hot running water. It's a sweet heaven compared to the months of cold showers I've only recently come back from. I hope my next assignment is in a more developed country. My back could only take so many months of hard cots in youth hostels that have no A/C. I guess I need to put in a few more years before I get put in nicer hotels.

I work for the Central Intelligence Agency. I spent the better part of three years as a terrorism analyst before reluctantly transitioning to a field agent two years ago. The decision to transfer wasn't one I took lightly, but when you have an over achieving dad like I do, you get pushed out of your comfort zone more often than not. The transition to field agent was pushed by my father, who hassled me for years saying I deserved more than a desk job. I became a field agent somewhat grudgingly, but I found that I actually like this work much better.

Law enforcement runs in the family. My father is the Deputy Director of Intelligence Services for the CIA at the Home Office in Langley and my mother is an Assistant District Attorney. Being who they are, it's no surprise that all three of their children followed in their footsteps. I joined the CIA directly after college. My older brother who has to outdo everyone, was recruited as a tech analyst before he even graduated. My twin brother chose to join the army after high school and worked Special Forces for six years before getting out and joining me as a fellow field agent.

I hop out of the shower, wrapped in a towel and make my way into my walk-in closet, trying to decide which pair of my twenty black slacks I was going to wear that day. I never understood the need to have so many of the same colored pants. But when you have a sister-in-law like mine, you learn to shut up and swipe your credit card when asked for payment. I grab the first pair my hands come into contact with and match them with a light blue button down and a black blazer. I settle for a pair of black close toed pumps that I bought myself for my last birthday.

I normally don't dress so professionally, but my father texted me on my way home last night that the Deputy Director was going to be at the after action review.

I lay everything out on my bed before heading back to the bathroom to put on some make up and attempt to tame my hair. After trying to brush it out for ten minutes, I admit defeat and go for a messy low bun.

Once changed, I walk out into the living room to admire my view of Central Park from my floor-to-ceiling windows.

I missed my apartment.

My sister-in-law and best friend, Alice, took it upon herself to renovate and decorate the place before I even moved in. It has light hard wood floors all throughout except in the kitchen, which sports stark white tiles that contrast perfectly against the black cabinets and marble counter tops. She made sure to furnish the kitchen with state of the art, stainless steel or black appliances, even against my insistence that I didn't need them. The whole apartment has a very light and neutral color scheme, filled with light browns and blues with white accents. I really loved how Alice had done up the place for me, but the view was what won me over. The tall buildings cluttered amongst large trees is something I never tired looking at. It was the perfect mix of city and rural.

I'm interrupted from my thoughts when I hear the coffee machine's beep, indicating it's ready. What I'm surprised I _didn't_ hear up until now is the loud smacking that's coming from the kitchen. I turn my head slowly and see my beast of a twin brother holding the orange juice carton in one hand while using the other hand to shove an entire bagel in his mouth. I've always believed that Emmett's sole desire in life is to figure out how to eat every morsel of food in the least amount of bites possible.

"Mo'ing Thith" he says, as he attempts to smile through the bagel, resulting in several large crumbs falling out of his mouth and cascading onto the floor.

I don't know if it's because we're twins and I know him so well or because I've learned how to speak idiot fluently, but I know he's saying _Morning Sis_.

"Morning Em… You're up early."

"Couldn't sleep. Too excited for the new assignment." He slides a coffee cup down the counter towards me and I catch it just before it slides off completely.

"We don't know we'll get a new assignment so fast. The DD is only coming in to oversee the after action review."

There are a total of five Deputy Directors, one of which is my father. This Deputy Director, however, is the DD for the CIA in it's entirety, not just a specific department like Charlie is for the Department of Intelligence. Bottom line, he was a fucking big deal.

"When have you _ever_ seen the DD 'oversee' any after action review? I bet you he's just sitting in to hear how our team did and see if we're ready for the next big thing." Emmett challenges.

I roll my eyes at Emmett's optimism, "Em, anywhere with hot running water and a nice bed is the next big thing compared to our last assignment. I really couldn't care less what this next assignment is."

"Why did you join the CIA if you're not going to enjoy it?" he gripes, stuffing another bagel into his mouth.

"It's six in the morning. There is nothing enjoyable about this time of day or any job that requires you to be up at this time." I open the fridge and reach in, grabbing the tub of Greek yogurt and the container of blueberries.

"Early worm gets the dirt, or whatever."

Out of habit, I open my mouth to correct him, but I stop myself as I look back to see him smirking. He loves to say or do things wrong on purpose to get a rise out of me. Another goal in life of Emmett's is to make me look like the biggest smart ass in the room, something I only caught onto after Jasper, my older brother, pointed it out in college.

While Em is chuckling at my inability to let things go uncorrected, I see Nox out of the corner of my eye jump on the counter. She walks over to Emmett's breakfast and pushes the last bagel onto the floor.

"Damn it, cat!" Emmett exclaims. Annoyed, he picks up the bagel and eyeballs it.

I can see the war going on in his head, deciding whether to eat it or throw it away. I roll my eyes as I start making my easy breakfast. My brother has been through things I can't even imagine, but it's the five second rule that completely undermines him.

"Why does your cat have to be such a bitch?" He whines as he turns to Nox and shakes the bagel at her, "Why can't you be normal, like your brother?"

 _That's something I'll never hear,_ I think to myself.

Nox, unfazed by this, licks the cream cheese off her paw before slinking away, bored.

Chuckling to myself, I finish spooning yogurt and blueberries into my Pyrex container and let Em know we need to leave now or we're going to be late.

"Now? But I need to make another bagel before we go…" He pouts, looking like a kid who just got pulled out of the candy store before he could even have a sample.

I'm already opening the front door, purse and jacket in hand as I call back, "Now Em! Dad will have our heads if we're so much as one minute late to this."

As much as my brother is a constant annoyance to me, I enjoy living with him. The fact that he was the better cook and always drives are just a few perks, but it is really more that I missed him during his time in the military.

Em grumbled the whole way there until I handed over the unfinished half of my breakfast.

"You kinda owe me anyway, Nox being yours and all…" he explains before tipping back the container and swallowing the rest of the yogurt in one gulp. A tiny bit of yogurt drips down his chin and falls onto his jacket in the process.

"Cute," I point out the new stain and pass him a napkin before turning my head to look out the window and admire Washington, DC. Part of me hopes I'll be able to stay close to home on this next assignment. I enjoy the travel, but this last job made Em and I more homesick than usual.

We arrive at Langley shortly after the yogurt debacle. The spring in Emmett's step is back in full force as we make our way up to the conference room.

"I don't know… I just got this feeling we're gonna be given a super important assignment today. Considering we've kicked every other case we've had in the ass and proven ourselves. Not to mention we're being called in to work at the Home Office."

He does have a point with that last comment. When we're stationed at home we work from a fake business office down town, our usual cover. To everyone else in the world, Emmett and I have a small office together in which we're both professional notaries. The cover works for us. We don't get a lot of people who walk into our office and when we do, we can still do our fake job to keep up appearances.

I look over at him and can't help but smile at how out of place he looks in a suit. Emmett stands at 6'4", his pants are just a tiny bit too short for his long legs. His biceps are probably as big as my thighs and I imagine if he flexed them just a smidge he would bust out of his jacket. Only those that know him well can tell he's uncomfortable in a suit. He avoids them at all costs, wearing them only when mandatory, and half the time he'll pretend he forgot.

"Aren't they all… ' _super important'_ assignments?" I ask, attempting to mimic his voice while using exaggerated air quotes.

"No, you ass. I mean like a big one… Wait, not a big ass." He shakes his head and regains focus on what he was saying, "Something more direct, you know?"

By direct I know he means an assignment that deals directly with bigger terrorist cells or organized crime bosses. But the chances of that are slim to none. Those kinds of cases are only given to analysts and agents who've been in the agency for quite some time or specialize in those kind of covert operations. Low on the totem pole, Em and I have only been given cases that deal with popular henchmen, or those a few ranks below from their leaders; but never the head honchos.

Five years may seem like a long time, but in reality it's not when dealing with Law Enforcement. It's all about hierarchy and chain of command. Where I have served five years, there are a handful of others that have been in for ten. In the grand scheme of things, two years is chump change, which is how long Emmett has been working for the CIA. The only reason he's partnered with me is because of our father's high standing.

When we arrive at the conference room, Emmett makes himself a cup of watered down, stale coffee while I go over and sit in one of the chairs that line the wall surrounding the long oval shaped table.

We're not important enough to sit at the table.

Emmett eyes my father's seat with longing as he sits next to me.

"Easy there, tiger. There's about a twenty-year wait for that chair." I murmur.

He bumps my shoulder with his and continues to torture himself with his secret admiration of _the seat_ whilst taking sips of the piss poor excuse for coffee this place offers.

You'd think an organization that has brought down the world's most dangerous criminals and stopped a vast number of attacks on its country would be able to make a decent cup of joe.

I shake my head at him and open my notes up, preparing for the after action review.

I wish they wouldn't call it an AAR. It's basically a thirty-minute meeting where all the big shots come in and jerk each other off to the successes of their departments, then sign off on everything and officially close the case.

Em and I know damn well that the only reason we're having this meeting is because of all the blood, sweat, and time we have put into this job. But alas, we're not important enough to take the credit for any of our successes. I think that's the only thing that Emmett dislikes about this job.

It's the total opposite for me. I love being able to do my work under the radar. It does suck sometimes, this time especially. We've spent the past year living in a small village in Russia, trying to gain intel on the human trafficking market in that area. The village was slowly becoming Russia's main source for funneling slaves into it's major cities. We went through hell, but it was the biggest case we had ever been given so we were more than happy to take it on.

"Hey."

I look up from my notes to see my older brother sit down next to me. Although you could never tell, Jasper was in fact our brother. His long blonde hair and baby blue eyes resemble his biological father, while Emmett and I have our father's chocolate brown eyes and chestnut hair.

Pushing his glasses back up his nose, Jasper asks, "When did you guys get in?"

"When did you get a man bun?" Emmett counters, wagging his eyebrows suggestively.

We haven't seen Jazz in a year due to being out of the country for so long on our last assignment. I can only guess this is why Emmett is so confused by the new choice of hair style our older brother has decided on.

"Why do you drink that stuff?" Jasper asks as Emmett blows into his Styrofoam coffee cup.

I look over at the nasty mud colored water Emmett is holding in his hands and can't help but agree with Jazz. That's not real coffee. I quickly cut them off before they continue to pursue the endless war of counter questions they always manage to shoot at each other.

"Yesterday morning. But we spent most of the day filling out paperwork. Then we went to Mario's for some pizza but we haven't seen mom or dad yet. I missed you," I beam at him.

"Me too." He quickly gives me a side hug. I reciprocate the quick side hug, knowing I'll give my big brother a proper reunion hug later on at dinner tonight.

Our reunion is cut short when everyone begins to file into the conference room, including my father who looks over at the three of us, giving a warm smile and a barely perceptible nod. We all nod back at him as he takes his seat at the table.

The Deputy Director walks in and that begins the AAR. My only job is to act like I'm listening and when the head of my department stretches out her hand, I'm to place my notes in that hand and sit back down quietly, like a good little agent.

Kate, my boss, is a huge hard ass but I've always respected her more than other team leaders. She knows when to give credit where credit is due. When I first started, we seemed to butt heads daily, but over the past few years we've warmed up to each other and work quite well together. She's still stand offish towards Emmett, which he doesn't find the least bit discouraging in his efforts to get on her good side.

The AAR is over before I know it and I look up to find my father walking towards to us.

"You three, upstairs." Is all he says before he briskly walks out.

"Awww, I love it when Dad gets all sentimental with us. Just like old times… Maybe mom will be up there to join in on the lecture." Em jokes.

We all make our way up to the top floor and sit outside the conference room. This floor is lot nicer and it's conference rooms and offices have glass walls, allowing you to see into them clearly. If you're decent at reading lips, you can get a good idea of what's being talked about. I'm pretty gifted at it, but I resist the temptation because I don't want my father thinking I'm eavesdropping on matters that don't concern me. I refocus my attention on Dumb and Dumber, who are whispering theories back to each other on the subject of this meeting.

They grow more and more excited as both the Director and Deputy Director walk in and have a seat with my dad and several other department heads.

After about an hour, Emmett and I are called in first.

It's not unusual. Jasper, being a technical analyst, is always brought in later when the computer science aspect of the assignment is needed to be organized. He's been in the CIA for ten years now, and he's already lead analyst in his team, giving him more flexibility than Em and I. Jazz is married and is trying to start a family of his own, so he chooses to work only out of Home Office. When given opportunity, he opts to be put on the same assignments that we have as long as he's able to work from home.

Em and I make our way to our usual seats near the wall when my father clears his throat. We both turn towards him like deer in head lights as he gestures to the two chairs next to him.

Emmett and I give each other a look that says _holy shit,_ before we take our seats next to dad.

Kate starts to speak, "I know of your capability due to working with you both so closely these past few years, so I know you'll be up for the task."

That was probably the only nice thing to have ever come out of and will come out of Kate's mouth in the work place. I give Emmett another _holy shit_ look but he's too busy looking around at everyone else who's sitting at the table to see it. We're only accompanied by eight others including Kate and my father.

"The less people who know about this, the better," she pauses, causing almost everyone to stand up and walk out of the room. I was pretty certain that those positions were as high as you could get, but apparently this was a need-to-know kind of case that didn't care about rank.

Kate, my father, an analyst who's name I don't know, someone else I've never seen before, Emmett and I are the only ones who remain.

I glance outside of the room and look over at Jasper, who is looking in at us with a dumbfounded expression. My hands become clammy as the nerves begin to get to me. My genius older brother is never confused unless it has anything to do with his wife—which I'm positive has nothing to do with any of this. Unless we're investigating a high profile case on complex color swatches or the dangers of glass chandeliers on high ceilings.

Kate takes out a stack of pictures out of an unmarked envelope and pushes them towards Emmett and I. He's still reeling from being able to sit in _the seat_ , showing no sign that anyone's home. Since I'm the only one left with a brain I grab the pictures and look down at them.

The first one I see is of Royce King, a known boss in the Italian mafia. In this picture he's talking to a man with platinum blonde hair. I can't make out any other discernable features because he was turned away from the lens when the picture was taken.

I flip to the next one and see Laurent Solarin, a highly known weapons dealer who does business primarily with the Russian's, but also has had ties with the Mexican and Columbian drug lords. He is also pictured talking to the same man with platinum blonde hair, but again, he's turned away from the camera.

I keep flipping through the pages, each one the same: a highly wanted, big-shot crime boss talking with Mr. Platinum.

I look up at Kate and my father, "Who is this guy?"

My father answers before Kate has a chance, "We don't know his identity, but we have an idea of what he does." He stops there, not explaining further. A silent indicator that I have to look through the pictures again. My father never goes into detail unless he has to.

I look through the pictures again. In every one, Mr. Platinum is carrying a brief case. It's too thin to be carrying a large sum of money or drugs. In only a few of the photos is he seen handing over a thick black book to his companions. In one, he's pointing at something in the black book over dinner with one of the leaders of the Triad, the Chinese mafia. The pictures are not close enough for me to read, so all I can do is guess.

Mr. Platinum has a business of some sort which includes working with all these people—something that is difficult to do. When working with that many chiefs, all highly lethal, things can get sticky. They have to either not know you're working for their enemies, or they do know and just don't care. The amount of trust needed for the latter scenario is almost immeasurable, if not unachievable. These are the type of men that exercise extreme caution in regards to who they do business with. This man must do some of their dirtiest work… Or maybe he's knows their biggest secrets… _Secrets! That's it._

"He's their book keeper. An accountant. The only reason he's allowed to work with that many rivaling mobs is because he knows where all their money is kept, so none of them fuc—I mean mess with him." I reply quickly after a few seconds of deliberation, my heart beating fast.

I enjoy the process of solving problems—the mechanics of putting together tiny details and piecing them together like pieces of a puzzle, forming them into a bigger picture. It's one of the reasons why I love my job so much.

I can see my father's lips twitch slightly underneath his mustache, trying to hold back a smile over my excitement.

I glance over at Emmett, who is still glossy eyed.

He mumbles something under his breath and I barely catch it, but it sounded like, "You can't sit with us."

I kick him underneath the table and he suddenly comes to life and starts to pay attention, brow furrowing as he takes in this new information.

"Yes." Kate responds, "Those pictures you have just seen were taken over the course of the past twenty-five years. These," she produces another stack of photos and slides them over to me, "were taken before the ones you have just seen. Some twenty years' prior, some thirty. They're in order by date taken, the first one being the oldest."

I pick up the pictures, and hold them between Emmett and I now that he's paying attention.

In the first few pictures, it's with criminals who have long been caught or presumed dead. Al Capone, Paul Castellano, Tony Spilitro, almost all the big mobsters. Mr. Platinum isn't in these pictures, the man that has replaced—or in this case, preceded—him has dirty blonde hair. I keep flipping, the pictures starting to show the crime bosses I had just seen, only they look much younger in these pictures. I barely recognize some of them in their youth. On the last five or so pictures, I see the blonde man is now accompanied by Mr. Platinum.

"And these have been taken over the last two years," Kate says and she slides the last stack of pictures towards Emmett and I.

This stack doesn't contain as many pictures as the last one, but I assume this is only because of the shorter time frame.

I pick up the photos and flip through them. Same crime bosses, but they look as they should in present day—older, a little worn down and grayed out after years in the business. Mr. Platinum remains in the photos, but is now accompanied by a man with unruly reddish-brown, almost bronze hair.

I flip through the pictures again, and again, my eyes as wide as saucers.

"Holy shit," I whisper to myself.

I look over to make sure Emmett is on the same page, the look on his face shows he is.

"It's a family business." Emmett and I say in unison.

My father can't hold back a small smile as he silently beams at the two of us.

"Precisely." Kate confirms, "like I said, we are unsure of the identities of these men, but we are aware of what they do. All we know is that in the past couple of years, the Book Keeper has begun to groom his apprentice to take over his business. If we're going off the last transition, this process will probably take around five years."

I think it's because she enjoys the feeling of sliding pictures across the table, or maybe it's for dramatics, but Kate proceeds to slide another picture down to Emmett and I.

We both look down at it and see Mr. Platinum, his apprentice, and Aro Volturi. Aro wasn't pictured in any of the pictures from before, but I recognize him from one or two pictures of seen on other occasions. For years he was believed to be a myth. Only in the past decade has his identity been confirmed.

Aro Volturi makes other crime bosses look like kindergarten teachers. He is one of the most notorious and wanted crime bosses in the world. A handful of countries are after this guy. He deals with hard drugs, prostitution, and weapons. He's also been linked to human trafficking, but those reports haven't been confirmed. One time I heard that he bought some nukes off the Cubans, but that was all lunch room bull which I rarely believe.

He's so mysterious and hard to track because he keeps his circle small. He's rumored to have two, maybe three brothers, who deal with everything directly while he delegates everything from behind the curtain. The top ranks are strictly family, which tends to invoke loyalty. The last person we had flip on his business was about a year or two ago. He was a small time coke dealer claiming he had some information on one of the Volturi's henchmen. Poor kid barely had time to say Aro's name before he mysteriously died—I say mysteriously due to the fact that he was being held in solitary confinement that was under the highest surveillance.

He is, for all intents and purposes, a modern day Pablo Escobar, but on a much larger scale than dealing with just drugs.

Kate looks between us to make sure we're comprehending all of this before continuing.

"The Book Keepers have acquired a new client. While they have the books on many others we're interested in, the Volturi's have risen to our number one priority, which makes this a _highly_ sensitive case. We need you both to first figure out the identities of these Book Keepers. Then we need you to infiltrate their business and gain access to these books. Any other information you acquire on the way is just a bonus. Our main priority is the Volturi. This is the first time they've ever trusted anyone outside of their family, and we need to take advantage of that before it's too late. If we acquire these books, we acquire a percentage—if not all of—the Volturi business.

Once you have acquired the identities, we will meet again and assess how you both can go undercover to try and gain the trust of these accountants. Be that as a neighbor, coworker, maid, maybe even a delivery guy. Whatever we see fit to work most efficiently. We just got a hold of this information, so we are playing all of this by ear. _Top priority_. You start on this immediately. Questions?"

I go to shake my head but Emmett interrupts, "Uh, maid?"

Screaming at him to shut up in my head, I glare. He peeks over at me and gets the hint.

"No ma'am." We both say.

With just a look, we're dismissed. The whole way out of the office I can almost hear Emmett's growing excitement. We walk over to meet Jasper, who apparently wasn't needed for this meeting.

"So? Anything good?" he asks, waiting to hear it from us.

I open my mouth but my dad calls Jasper in to the conference from behind me before I get a word out. I'm sure Jazz will be the lead tech analyst on this case.

"Fuck yeah!" Em fists pumps the air, "Do you know what this means? I can't wait to kick some Volturi ass!"

I give him the side eye as he celebrates being brought in on a big case so early in his career. I'm not surprised though, he has a lot more experience on the field in terms of combat which might help in this case, with the Volturi being so dangerous.

Emmett and I walk over to the elevator to make our way down to our desks and he can barely contain himself. He and I have done a lot of undercover jobs, but nothing as high profile as dealing with the Volturi's—his dream assignment.

I get to my temporary desk, which is right in front of Emmett's, and plop down on my seat. I eye the new stacks of file folders and a few file boxes that have found their way to our desks.

I grab the first file on top of the stack and open it up, hoping to find some small detail that will lead me to the identity of Mr. Platinum or his family.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **I have the better part of Chapter 2 written but I'm still unsure if I'll keep posting the chapters here as I write them. If you guys like it I'll keep posting :)**

 **Review! Let me know your thoughts, I'd really like to hear them!**


	3. The Steel Door Debacle

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.**

 **A/N: Hello! First, thank you everyone who reviewed, favorited, or followed! I am so excited over the support I've gotten being my first(ish) story! You guys kept me writing! Also thank you to my BFF in RL who beautifully edits for me.**

 **I think I'm going to keep the "debacle" trend going, it represents Bella's life being thrown into chaos upon taking this assignment (and I also love the word).**

 **See you all down below!**

* * *

 **THE STEEL DOOR DEBACLE**

I'm doing research on an alias Mr. Platinum might have gone by for a short period of time— a discovery I made in one of the files from the Bookkeeper case—when Emmett reminds me what time it is.

It's almost six in the evening, which normally means nothing to me. I've worked much later than this on more than one occasion. Tonight however, we're all getting together to celebrate Emmett and I's return home with dinner at Jasper's place.

I stick a post-it note where I left off reminding me to research the one small lead I've found in the past seven hours. Now that I've had time to sit at my desk and rifle through documents, I can't help but to feel excited about our new assignment.

I follow Em down to the car as he hums the theme song to _Cops_ and fist pumps the air every few lines. When we reach the lot, I see our black Audi A3 is one of the few cars left in this level of the parking garage. I don't see Charlie or Jasper's car, so they must already be at home waiting for us.

Like my parents, Jazz lives close by, so the drive is relatively short. We pull up to a quaint, two story grey house in a quiet, gated neighborhood. It's partially shrouded by a large oak tree, with a row of bushes lining the front porch and steps. The style is a little old fashioned, but it was built a few years ago. We hop out of the car and head up the steps. Em barges in without so much as a courtesy knock.

"Ma! Alice! We're home!" He yells as he kicks off his shoes by the front door.

As I'm taking off my own shoes I'm assaulted by a mass of golden fur.

"Jesus!" I yelp as I try and regain my balance, "What in fuck's name?"

"Isabella, language!" I hear my mother admonish as she walks from the kitchen towards Em and I. Her footsteps are accompanied by a few others.

I look down at a golden retriever who's overly excited about the two new strangers. It's tail is wagging with so much force, it's entire backside is shaking back and forth.

"Oh, hello there…" I croon with a voice specifically reserved for animals. I can't help it; my baby voice comes out when I see cute little fur-nuggets. I go to pet the hairy mass, but I'm suddenly interrupted.

For the second time today, I'm nearly knocked to the ground, but this time I know who is responsible for my attack.

Alice, my sister-in-law and best friend, lets out an animal like screech. Tightening her grip, her hug effectively forces out any and all air present in my lungs.

"Oh my god, how I've missed you! Don't ever do that to me again. I can't believe you left for an entire year and couldn't even send one measly letter to let me know you were okay. Don't even try to convince me it was a business trip. Year-long business trip for a notary? Good one." She babbles, eyeing me knowingly. "Do you understand what it is like to have your best friend taken away from you? Poor Jasper had to deal with all my girl talk for the past year. He has really honed in on his nail painting and hair braiding skills, though. Could have quite the career." Alice glances at Jasper as she says this, shooting him a flirty wink. He chuckles and shakes his head.

It's been so long that I'm slightly taken aback by her ability to ramble on, seemingly forever, without taking so much as a breath. But it only takes a second to acclimate to the tornado that is Alice.

She's dainty and petite, standing about a head shorter than me, with a strength that rivals Emmett's. She used to have long, beautiful black locks when we were kids, but since high school she has kept her hair relatively short. She sports a sleek bob with soft bangs parted to the side; the pixie cut from a year ago long gone.

"Hello to you, too Alice. No, actually, I don't know what it is like to have my best friend 'taken away' from me. That is a completely foreign concept. Care to share?" I reply, hugging her back with such intensity, my heart may actually burst.

Alice and I have been best friends since her family moved to DC in middle school. It has always been just the two of us. I have a few other friends, but none who's friendships are as precious to me. She always had this school girl crush on Jazz when we were young, but he never paid much attention to her.

Growing up, we would always plan each other's weddings and discuss what our perfect senior prom would be like. In the eighth grade, Alice swore up and down that Jasper was going to be her date for senior prom. At the time, I just gave her a weird look, and shrugged it off by moving on to dress styles and colors for the big day. I should have remembered Alice always gets what she wants. The summer before our senior year started, Alice asked Jasper if he could fly home a few days earlier from college, to be her prom date—as friends, of course—at the end of the school year. She claimed she wanted every detail she imagined when she was younger to match perfectly with reality.

Next thing I know, I'm left standing alone with Mike Newton at prom by the punch bowl, Alice and Jasper nowhere to be seen. Ever since that night they've been together. They married after Alice and I finished college and have been trying to start a family of their own for the last year. No luck yet, but Alice says it will happen when it is supposed to.

Although she is my best friend, I could never tell her that I am, in fact, not a notary. The CIA has strict rules on who we are able to confide in about our occupation. Only spouses are allowed to learn of our employment with the CIA, and even then, that is all we can disclose. When she married Jasper, he told her the truth about what he did for a living. She knows Em and I work with closely Jasper, as well as Charlie, so by default she knows what the rest of us do. So, now when I lie about going on a 'vacation' or 'business trip', she smirks and gives me a furtive look, quickly followed by the slightest glimmer of concern.

Even knowing this, I still have to lie to her, which I hate. It does seem a tad easier now, knowing she understands why I have to.

"Alright, alright, that's enough Alice. Let an old man have a minute with his daughter." Charlie says as he comes up behind Alice, grinning at the both of us.

I launch myself at him and give him a long, hard hug, "Hey Dad." I breathe out, realizing now how much I have missed him and the rest of my family.

"Hey Bells." he pats my back and holds me for a few more seconds before letting go so my mom can have a turn. My father and I have always been close. He is not as affectionate as some, but he has always been there for me, teaching me most of what I know.

I look over at my mom, who could easily pass for thirty on a bad day. Her aqua colored eyes are teary as she wraps her arms around me. Everyone says I'm the spitting image of her, but with my father's eyes and hair. I don't mind though, my mother is the true definition of an American beauty.

"Awww, Ma come on! None of that." Emmett pleads spotting her red nose and teary eyes. He reaches over and scoops her up in one of his bear hugs, lifting her off the ground in the process.

Jasper crosses the foyer to give me one of his warm 'older brother' hugs. Once our greetings conclude, we make our way into the dining room and take our seats.

Alice has pulled out all the stops for tonight's dinner. The table is overflowing with delicious gourmet foods, a specialty of hers. She owns a local catering and event planning company, famous in it's own right here in DC. Almost all official government banquets, dinners, high class parties, and weddings in the area are exclusively organized and catered by herself and her team.

"I really missed your cooking, Alice. You didn't have to do all this for me, though." Emmett assures her while grinning childishly.

"Oh, I didn't mind, Emmie." Alice replies sweetly. She knows he hates that nickname, but he lets it slide partially because she's Alice—and partially because he is distracted by the enormous stack of steaks that are practically taunting him from the middle of the table.

I feel something brush against my legs, and look down to find the golden retriever once again staring up at me.

"When did you guys get a dog?" I ask while scratching behind it's ears.

"Jazz got him for me a month or two after you guys went on your trip to keep me company. His name is Albus." Alice smirks. I beam at her, proud of her selection of name.

"A great name for a great pup." I croon as Albus wags his tail.

We all take our seats and start piling our plates with food, eating before we start catching up.

In record time, my mother asks her favorite question.

"So, Bella? Did you meet anyone _special_ when you were away?"

Emmett snorts next to me, but I silence him with a glare.

"Uh, no mom. We were working pretty much around the clock. I didn't have time to go out and socialize." I reply before shoving more sweet potato mash in my mouth to avoid having to answer another question about my love life, or more specifically my lack thereof.

Don't get me wrong, I am no virgin. I've been in a few relationships, and regretfully had one or two drunken one night stands. After college, my main focus became the CIA, so I never made any time to go out and date. I get asked occasionally, but none of the men peaked my interest enough to say 'yes'. It's been quite a while since anyone but Nox has seen me in my birthday suit.

Emmett plays dumb because…Well, he's Emmett and that's pretty much his only play. He more so enjoys adding fuel to the fire.

"Really? You didn't? I had plenty of—" he stops when he feels the stinging pain of my heel digging into his foot, "Ow, Bells! That really hurts."

I quickly retract my foot and look over at him as he is feinting a pained look. When everyone goes back to their food he grins devilishly at me. _Little bastard!_ I think to myself, filing this away until appropriate revenge can be executed.

"Bella, don't hurt your brother. I'm just worried about you not being settled down yet." My mom pleads.

"Yeah? Well, Emmett is the same age as me and he hasn't _settled down_ yet either," I deflect poorly.

"Anyone who spends ten minutes with Emmett can see why he's still single. That's no surprise at all." Jasper adds, "Speaking of which, what happened with Kate, Em? You owe me a hundred bucks. She hasn't gone on that date with you. Don't think I forgot."

I smile, inwardly thanking Jasper for the subtle subject change. He winks at me before refocusing his attentions to Emmett.

"Oh come on, Jazz!" Em exclaims, "Give me another month. We made that bet a week before Bella and I had to leave. How was I supposed to woo Kate from the other side of the country?"

"The terms were that I give you a month. It's been a year." Jazz sips on his wine victoriously, something that I notice Alice isn't drinking tonight. A rarity, considering Alice is the first to help herself to an expensive, Italian wine.

She catches me eyeing her water, and I shoot her a questioning look. Before I can gauge her reaction, Alice hurriedly stands, announcing she is grabbing dessert.

"What was I supposed to do? She has to see the gun show in person in order to fully appreciate my charm." Emmett continues, all the while flexing his biceps.

"That's how you 'woo' women? Muscles? Really, frat boy? I'm surprised you've made it this far in life." Jasper counters.

They continue arguing semantics in regards to getting into a woman's pants when Alice walks back in, placing a tray of beautifully decorated French macaroons in the center of the table. They are an assortment of light blues and pinks, each with a different design adorning the top. There are baby rattles, pacifiers, baby booties, and little balloons with the word 'baby' written on them.

My mother gasps, interrupting the heated discussion of the female anatomy that Jazz, Em, and apparently now my father are having. She's staring at the macaroons, covering her mouth as she begins to tear up.

My father, unsure of what is happening, finally glances at the plate of cookies. Realization spreading across his face, he slowly looks up, lovingly glancing at his son and daughter-in-law.

"Wow…. Really, Jazz? Wow." Charlie whispers. He is quiet, but he and my mother are beaming, almost as much as Alice and Jasper are.

Emmett stands and picks Alice up, twirling her around and laughing, "I can't believe I'm gonna be an uncle! I can't wait to show the little shit how to pick up ladies, the _right way_!"

We all laugh and take turns hugging Alice and Jasper, congratulating them whilst wiping away tears of joy.

"I'm so happy for you, Jazz." I whisper teary eyed, "You're gonna be such an amazing dad. I love you, big bro."

"Love you too, Little Bell." He replies, releasing his hold from our embrace. He's content watching silently as his family takes in the news.

Emmett breaks out a bottle of champagne—and a glass apple juice for Alice. We all toast to the 'little shit', as Emmett has newly dubbed him, all agreeing it is going to be a boy.

"You realize, Em, that you can't call him that after he is born, right?" I ask, eyeing him questioningly as I sip my champagne.

"Why not? It's a suitable name." He jokes, knowing how ridiculous he sounds.

"Emmett, language! There won't be any 'shit' business around my grandbaby!" My mother admonishes, reach over to rub Alice's flat tummy.

We all chuckle at the sheer fact that our mother has said the word 'shit'. Emmett raises his eyebrow towards Jasper, a silent reminder of the long standing bet they have in regards to our mother. Since we were teenagers, they have placed bets on how long it will take for Emmett to drive mom crazy enough to the point of cursing. Over the years, the amount of time has depleted to the point of almost nonexistence.

I catch the subtle, sad smile Jasper gives Renee, and the almost imperceptible exchange between him and Em, before he resumes drinking his champagne.

Before Renee met Charlie she had been married to Phil, Jasper's dad. He was a police officer who died in the line of duty. I was never told any of the details, but when I got older I started snooping around public files in the library at school. I found an archived newspaper article about Phil Whitlock, a police officer for Washington DC. A teenager attempted to rob a liquor store.

When the police arrived on the scene, the seemingly routine robbery morphed into a full blown hostage situation. Phil was shot and killed by the teen while he was trying to talk him down into releasing the clerk he held captive. Renee was only a few months pregnant at the time of Phil's death, robbing Jasper of the opportunity to meet his biological father.

Renee met my father during her last trimester. Charlie was smitten and fell completely head over heels for her. He took care of Renee and was there for Jasper's birth. My mother took some time to reciprocate those feelings, but Charlie was patient and knew she was worth the wait.

They married when Jasper was two years old and my father adopted him. He didn't change his last name, wanting to honor Phil in that small way.

After Jasper had turned eighteen, he legally changed his last name to Swan and gave Charlie the document showing as much. Nothing was ever said, but we all knew Jazz wanted to thank Charlie for taking him in as his own son and caring for him and Renee. That was the closest I had ever come to seeing Charlie Swan cry.

I look around at my family and my heart can't help but feel warm and full. We are far from perfect, but I'm so happy I have them in my life. Even Alice fit in perfectly long before she married Jasper. We all sit around the table, laughing and catching up on what Em and I have missed over the last year. A few hours later my mother looks at the time and decides to call it a night.

Em picks her up again, giving her another of his famous bear hugs—he calls them famous, no one else does.

"We'll be over for breakfast tomorrow morning, Ma. I have to take advantage of those chocolate chip pancakes while I'm here." Emmett jests as she pulls on her coat.

"Oh don't worry, I picked up everything I need for those yesterday. I have a full year's supply of ingredients for those pancakes, which I'm sure will be obliterated in a week with you back in town." Renee laughs.

She gives everyone else a quick but loving hug before she leaves.

Charlie promises to be home soon after. They had driven separately since they both came over straight from work.

Alice begins to clean up the table and I snatch an empty plate out of her hand.

"Oh, no, Missy." I warn her, "You cooked, that means I clean. Go on and relax in the living room. I got this."

"Bella, no! At least let me help? We can gossip while doing dishes! I have so much to tell you!"

While I know she truly means that, her body betrays her by forcing a yawn from her tiny frame. I see how tired she looks from a long day at work, hours in the kitchen, and the emotional excitement of the evening.

Jasper comes up from behind her and whispers in her ear. She reluctantly hands over the empty pitcher to him before heading toward the living room.

I laugh at her dragging her feet in mock defiance while releasing another sizable yawn.

"What did you tell Alice that made her back down from cleaning?" I ask.

"I just told her that she needs to start relaxing if we want a healthy pregnancy." Jasper replies, smiling brightly at finally being able to say the word _pregnancy_.

"Ha! Oh man, thanks for that ammo. I'm going to enjoy using that for the next 9 months... You guys should have more kids after this. Dozens, even. Just keep them coming." I joke as I dodge his attempts to punch my shoulder.

He and I begin clearing the table when Charlie and Em walk in, speaking low in hushed voices.

"I can't believe you guys landed the Volturi case... I had no idea they were going to give you two that specific one. You guys do deserve it, though. Congrats, Bells." Jazz says as he pushes leftover garlic knots into a Pyrex container.

"What do you mean 'can't believe _you guys_ '? You didn't get let in on the assignment?" I ask, confused as to why they would bring him in right after us if not to assign him that case.

"Oh I am," he laughs, "I'm the one who discovered the Bookkeeper. Took me about two years to notice. Two weeks ago, I was looking at new surveillance photos of Royce King when I thought I had seen that platinum hair before. I dug deeper, and found another picture of him with one of the leaders of the Triad. A week later, I had all the pictures the agency had acquired over the years on him gathered up and brought it to Kate. But I didn't think she would hand the case off to you and nitwit over here."

At the word nitwit, Emmett joins the conversation.

"I know damn well you aren't calling me nitwit. Took Bella and I less than 5 minutes to recognize Mr. Platinum."

I take a second to go back and think if I ever said the nickname I had given the Bookkeeper aloud, but quickly realize I hadn't. _Stupid twin mind thingy_ , I groan inwardly.

"Excuse you. It took me five minutes to recognize Mr. Platinum. You were having a serious mental breakdown and spewing off lines from Mean Girls in the chair next to me." I say matter-of-factly.

"That's because you had all the pictures all lined up in front of you. You did none of the work. It probably would have taken your puny brain decades to comprehend what you were seeing had you been in my position, Em." Jasper retorts.

"I have a very large brain, thank you, accompanied by other very large organs. Yours of which would pale in comparison, for the record." Responds Emmett, turning his nose up in the air, showcasing his arrogance in this particular subject.

"I forgot what it's like to have you three in the same room." Charlie chimes in, popping open a beer before taking a seat at the table.

We all join him at the newly cleaned table. Emmett opens his mouth to talk but Jasper holds his finger up, silencing him. He leans a little toward the living room, straining to listen. There's a quiet snoring coming from inside, confirming Alice is fast asleep. Jazz nods his head for Emmett to continue.

"So what's your part in our new assignment?" Em asks, keeping his voice low.

"Emmett, you don't have to whisper. Alice can sleep through an earthquake." Charlie asserts, completely seriously.

We all chuckle at his statement, remembering our family trip to California a few years ago. That was a prime example in which Alice _did_ actually sleep through an earthquake. We have never let her live that down.

"I'm helping you guys surveil the Bookkeeper and his apprentice." Jasper continues, "Once you figure out their identities, I'll set you guys up with new identities and keep an eye on you from afar. Make sure Emmett doesn't fuck anything up."

Em scowls at this and begins to argue, but my dad swiftly cuts him off.

"I need you three to be on your toes with this case. Tread lightly. The CIA has lost a few agents when dealing with the Volturi. I know your main priority is to gain access to their books, but before that, your lives are what matter. If it gets too dangerous for you, or you're made _by anyone_ , I'm pulling you from the mission immediately. Understood?" Charlie's eyes are firm as he eyes the three of us.

"We won't get made, dad. We're the best at what we do. I have to admit, even Jazz is good at what he does. He has our back." Em nods over to Jasper, their argument from a few minutes ago a distant memory.

"Good. Really proud of you guys, great job landing this assignment. That was all you." Charlie claps Jazz in the back, who's sitting closest to him, and smiles.

Charlie gets up, ending our conversation, and bids us all goodbye.

As I'm walking out the door with Emmett, Charlie grasps my elbow.

"Careful out there, Bells." He murmurs.

"I will be, don't worry, Charlie." I assert.

"Huh," he gruffs and narrows his eyes slightly at my calling him Charlie. "I remember when I used to be 'daddy'." Shaking his head, he walks towards his car.

I laugh walking over to my own car. The ride back home is quiet and I fall asleep before we even get there.

I wake up sometime later and realize I'm now in my bed, Nox cuddled into my side. I smile, picturing Emmett carrying me up here instead of waking me. I fall back into a deep sleep as soon as my head hits my pillow.

* * *

When I wake the next day it takes me a few seconds to pry my eyelids from each other, the previous day's mascara still on my lashes. I groan as I stretch, a tad stiff from sleeping in my work clothes.

Nox makes her way to my face and head butts me a few times. I look over at the time and see it is 6:27am, her favorite time. _Breakfast_.

I settle back into bed for a few minutes but the head butting becomes incessant and I am unable to stand it any longer, so I force myself up.

"Alright, alright. Calm your tits, lady. I'm coming." I mutter as she sashays out of the room, beckoning me to follow with the swish of her tail.

I make my way over to the kitchen lazily. I am not allowed to brush my teeth or shower before I feed the Queen of DC, a punishment for my lateness. She doubles back and follows close behind, making sure I don't stray from the path towards food.

I walk out into the living room and stop dead in my tracks. I feel Nox's head bump against my calf, silently telling me to get my ass moving. I, however, am too busy looking at the mess created by the giant oaf sitting on the couch.

Em somehow found the time to go get all of the files we had on the Bookkeeper. It looked like he had already been through a box or two. He has a few files open next to him, and others strewn about, successfully covering most of our living room floor. Spotting files that are in neat little stacks, while others are seemingly thrown haphazardly, I wouldn't be surprised if he worked through the night, opting out of sleep entirely.

"Emmett." I interrupt him while he peruses through a mixture of documents and photos.

He looks up from the pages and smiles, looking well rested, like he did indeed have a full night's sleep.

"Morning, Bells. I made a little breakfast to hold us over until we go to mom and dad's. It's in the kitchen," He nods over to the kitchen and goes back to his work.

"It's Saturday," I accuse, "and it's six-thirty in the morning." My eyes narrow as I wait for his response.

"I'm just pumped to get the ball rolling on this. I couldn't sleep, plus I don't want to wait until Tuesday to get started. We have that psych evaluation Monday, which will probably take all day. Figure I get a head start on this since we don't have much else going on this weekend." Em replies before returning his attentions to the papers in front of him.

"Hmm, okay, well—ouch! Jesus, woman!" I jump and look down at my now red calf, harboring a deep scratch from Nox. She looks up at me with disdain, unwilling to wait a minute longer for her daily offering. "Ugh, fine, fine. I'll get your damn food." I gripe as I hurry over to the kitchen.

Once I set her food down, she purrs delightedly and digs in.

"Give me a few minutes and I'll join you, Em." I call over as I walk back into my room, deciding to hop in a shower and put on fresh clothes.

I decide on navy blue jean shorts and black and white striped long sleeve since we're going over to Charlie and Renee's house in a few hours. I leave my wet hair down so it can air dry and my face bare. I make my way back to the kitchen, this time feeling much more refreshed than a few minutes ago.

Emmett's left me a slice of his homemade quiche on the counter, one of my favorites.

I pour myself a cup of coffee before I grab the plate and head over to the living room—which has now been transformed into an office by Emmett.

I join him, choosing to sit on the love seat adjacent to the couch. I spoon the quiche into my mouth as I watch him read file after file, mumbling incoherently to himself. A little white mass of fuzz crawls into my lap.

Subconsciously, I begin to pet Em's cat, Lumos.

"Oh hi, Mister Lumie." I sing, causing him to flip onto his back and present his tummy for scratches.

He is far sweeter than his sister, Nox. The only commonality they share is their eyes, which are the exact same dazzling shade of amber. Without it, you would hardly guess they are from the same litter. Their demeanors are on opposite sides of the spectrum. Lumos is a loving cuddle monster, while Nox is the demanding diva and not much for unwarranted affection. Even so, I wouldn't trade Nox for the world. She may be a raging bitch at times, but she's my raging bitch.

After I get my fill of scratches and cuddles with Lumos, I pick up a file to start reviewing. Knowing that means business, Lumie nestles himself contentedly into my lap.

Emmett and I maintain a comfortable silence while we go through file after file, looking for any leads. I search for my sticky note placed on the possible lead in regards to an alias the Bookkeeper had used some time ago.

After about an hour, with no luck from my original lead, I start looking again. Starting anew, finding even the smallest of parallels could be a game changer.

Emmett and I fall into a pattern of sorts after a couple weeks. We work during the week, have dinner at Jasper's every Friday, breakfast at my parent's Saturday mornings, and then resume work through the weekend.

Occasionally, Alice storms into our apartment, demanding I help her shop for the baby and update my closet. She always seems to find a way to throw the latter in there, regardless of the situation.

All of the seemingly promising leads we find end up turning to shit, as if the Bookkeepers are only a figment of our imagination. It starts to feel as if we are trying to connect dots that aren't really there.

It's the last Sunday of the following month, and for the umpteenth time, I'm reading over a file that I couldn't know any better if I took it to a nice dinner and ravished it all night long. At this point, I have all but memorized each and every document, knowing everything and yet, ironically, nothing.

I'm staring at a picture of Laurent Solarin that is attached to this particular file. He was detained and subsequently arrested last week after the CIA had accumulated enough evidence to build a case against him. He is currently being held at ADX Florence, a super-max federal prison in Fremont County, Colorado. It is then that my mind is flooded with a single thought. A game changing thought.

"Em, I got it! Holy shit, why didn't I think of this sooner? It's not like he's the only one in prison… We need to interview Laurent! We should start with him being as he's the most recently incarcerated. Or maybe we should start with someone who has been in longer? Actually, I think it's perfect, he hasn't been sentenced yet so—" I exclaim, my mouth struggling to follow the train of thought my brain is rapidly developing.

"—Uh Bella?" Emmett says, cutting me off before I can continue my rambling, "Can you fill me in on the rest of this? These files have me nearly brain dead and are starting to blend together as one in the same."

"I'm pretty sure you were going brain dead long before then, Em. Anyways, Laurent is one of the Bookkeeper's clients. All we have to do is go talk to him and persuade him to tell us everything he knows about Mr. Platinum."

"Damn. Why didn't I think of that?" Emmett questions, inwardly reflecting the simplicity of the idea. "Don't answer that." He quickly responds as he points a finger at me and narrows his eyes. Knowing me well, he assumed I would retort with yet another 'brain dead' comeback. In all fairness, he isn't wrong. "Let me call the Home Office and set up our flight to Colorado ASAP." He states, while I chuckle to myself at the plethora of witty comments he deprived me of verbally expressing.

Emmett rises off the couch and heads towards his room, holding his cell up to his ear. I take this opportunity to head to my own room to pack a few things, in hopes that we can get a flight within the next few hours. I look out the window, and to my surprise, I see darkness indicating night is ever present. This isn't the first time I've lost track of time via the drowning of myself in case files. I guess we will have to catch a flight first thing in the morning.

I hear a knock at my door when I am almost finished packing all of my essentials, and look up to see Em standing in the doorway.

"Catching the red eye. Your flight leaves at one, mine's leaves at midnight."

"Mine." I correct absentmindedly while folding a grey pencil skirt into my carry-on.

"I know." Em chortles, shaking with silent laughter.

"You're an ass. Wait, why are we taking separate flights?" I was positive red eye flights, especially those to Colorado Springs, weren't over crowded in the least.

"Kate said we'd save time if you went to Laurent and I went to another client of the Bookkeeper's in lockup. Maria Monterrey was picked up near the border of Mexico in Texas a few days ago. She's being held at Fort Worth."

Maria Monterrey was a high profile drug queen, originally from Texas, who was operating out of Mexico. She fled the country a few years back after the FBI put a warrant out for her arrest. She's been heading her business from Mexico ever since, or so we thought. She must have gotten cocky and thought it safe enough to make a trip back into the U.S. She was in one of the pictures we were given with Mr. Platinum. Her father, whom she replaced after he was killed by the Columbians, was in a few pictures with the previous bookkeeper.

"Well, we all know Kate loves efficiency." I mutter as I zip up my duffle bag, preparing to head out the door.

* * *

My heels click against the smooth cement floor, echoing ominously off the walls of the empty corridor.

It's silent, save for the mouth breathing correctional officer leading me to a private room where Laurent awaits my arrival. We are taking the service hallway to avoid cameras since no one is supposed to speak to Laurent without his representation present. I do not want his lawyer involved due to the fact that I plan on offering him a deal in exchange for information; a small fallacy in the hopes of obtaining useful and valuable intel. Laurent believes I'm a D.A., meeting with him as a favor. I am _technically_ not allowed to be here, either. U.S. soil is FBI turf, but the CIA always seems to find a way around those rules.

I pat and smooth the hairs on my head, taking special care to ensure my long blonde wig is on correctly. I've only been wearing it for almost an hour, but am already to sweating due to the stifling Colorado heat. I usually avoid wigs if at all possible when going under cover, and opt for the occasional dye job or cut of my hair. Since this situation, however, is a one-day excursion, I chose a quick and easy disguise. I'm hoping this meeting won't take too long, given that my spanx are uncomfortably starting to cut off circulation to my lower half in addition to the ample amount of sweat.

The officer and I come to a stop in front of a thick steel door.

"Well, here we are." He leans on the closed door, giving me what he believes is a sexy smile. In all actuality, he looks more as though he is attempting to hold in a fart.

"Thanks," I pause, glancing at his nametag, "Mr. Crowley." I offer him a polite smile, and turn towards the door, trying to end our conversation before it even begins.

"You can call me Tyler. You can also call me tonight, if you want." He attempts to hand me what looks like a used napkin with his number scrawled lackadaisically across it.

I physically cringe at the cheesy pick up line this mouth breather has attempted to use to win my affection.

"No thank you, Mr. Crowley." I respond, able to keep the condescending tone out of my voice. Barely.

"Come on," he whispers and leans in towards me, the stench of his surely greasy breakfast still lingering on his tongue. "I have full access to super-max, I can take you on a tour." ending his proposition with a wink followed by another one of his gas induced smiles. I am able to literally feel my lady-bits physically retreating back into my body in order to avoid contact with such a specimen of the male gene pool.

"Tempting, very tempting. But I think I'd rather spend the night with one of these convicts than have to listen to your black hole of a mouth suck all the air out of the room for another minute." I say with such finality; I am hardly sure his feeble mind can comprehend the words.

I proceed to open the door abruptly, causing him to stumble and hit his head on the door.

"Oops." I giggle, plastering a fake and innocent smile on my face, "Okay Steve, we're good here. Thanks!"

"It's Tyler." He mumbles, rubbing his head and looking defeated as he closes the door behind me.

I enter and am faced with an empty room devoid of all windows and natural light. In the middle sits a steel table with two accompanying chairs that are bolted securely to the ground. One of the chairs is occupied by none other than Laurent Solarin, who is handcuffed to the table itself. His hands are clasped together, patiently waiting with a small contemplative smile on his face. If I didn't know any better, I would say it was as if he was at your local Starbucks, waiting to meet up with an old friend.

"Good morning, Mr. Solarin. I'm Sandra Michaels, I work for the DA's office. Thank you for meeting with me today on such short notice." I say, attempting to keep my tone as diplomatic as possible.

Laurent flashes his white teeth, the color exaggerated by his accompanying dark complexion. I can see why he's such a successful business man. He's charm radiates and fills the room, eyes warm and inviting.

"Please," his voice dripping with his thick French accent, "call me Laurent. All my friends do."

"Okay, Laurent. Call me Sandy, all of _my_ friends do." I smile, attempting a bit of harmless flirting to get on his good side and gain his trust.

"What can I help with you with today, Miss Sandy? Or shall I say, how can we help _each other_?" He flashes his teeth again, sultry and mischievously.

"Well, Laurent, I need some information. If you cooperate, I am willing to discuss the taking of a few years off your sentence."

"A few years? I'm sure you are aware a 'few year's is nothing in comparison to my full sentence, yes?" He asks, not bothering to hide his condescending tone.

With the charges they have against him, I'm sure the years racked up far surpass that of his natural life.

"You are over estimating my power, Laurent." I declare.

"No, Miss Sandy." He chuckles and leans forward, "I am preying upon your desperation for this information you seek. I do not get visitors here, as I am sure you well know. You being here in person, as opposed to relaying the message to me via my lawyer—who, I remind you, is not present—leads me to believe this information you wish to acquire is invaluable to you."

We stare at each other for a full minute before I concede. I don't think I am capable of pulling this off without calling Renee after this to pull some strings for me.

"I'll see what I can do, but I can't make any promises—" I respond cautiously, allowing him to maintain his self-perceived dominance.

"—A promise is what I need in order to proceed with this meeting. Otherwise, I am of no help to you." He states, matter-of-factly.

"Fine," I sigh, "I'll _see about_ your sentence being reduced to a couple decades. That's all I can promise you at this time."

Laurent grins triumphantly, "I can accept a couple decades… For now. Let's get started, Miss Sandy. What would you like to know?"

"I would like you to tell me about your accountant, the man who keeps your books. Well, kept."

He laughs at my question and shakes his head, "I never trusted anyone with my money. I handled all of my own finances."

I raise an eyebrow at this, but I am not the least bit surprised. I came prepared for almost any scenario. I open my briefcase and retrieve a blank folder, pulling out several pictures of Laurent in the company of Mr. Platinum. With a move that would make Kate proud, I slide the pictures over to him, spreading them out for him to see.

He appraises the pictures and looks up at me. There is the briefest flicker of fear is in his eyes that disappears as quickly as it appeared. With a blink of his chocolate brown eyes, he has now composed himself, for the most part.

"Ten years." He whispers, so low that I am forced to lean in to hear him.

"Ten years?" I question, looking for clarification.

"I want my sentence reduced to ten years if I am to tell you everything I know about this man. No more, no less."

I sigh and take my glasses off, pinching the bridge of my nose. _I am definitely going to have to call Renee after this._

"Done."

"Your word, Sandra. And I want my name left out of whatever it is your doing." He asserts, leaving me with only two options.

I let go of my nose and meet his eyes. I was correct in my earlier assumption, for his eyes are now filled with unbridled concern. _How dangerous could Mr. Platinum be to have the ability to garner such a reaction from someone like Laurent?_ I wonder silently to myself.

"This will be completely anonymous, Laurent. You have my word." I say, attempting to assuage his fears and encourage his candor.

He sighs before settling back in his chair and continuing.

"This man?" he points to Mr. Platinum, "Nobody knows his name. Everyone just refers to him as the Bookkeeper. You do not reach out to him, he finds you. When he wants to make his services available to you, you will receive a black business card. It has nothing but a family crest on the front, a lion with three shamrocks underneath. The back has a time and place. Sometimes, people receive it by mail, others found it delivered onto their doorstep anonymously.

The allure of their business is that no one knows anything about them. Trust, there are many who have tried finding out their true identities—"

"I'm sorry," I interrupt, " _their_?"

"It's a family business. The bookkeepers have been around since the beginning of organized crime. The job is passed down from generation to generation. Each father—or mother sometimes—grooms their child for years until they are ready to take over the business. They take their job very seriously."

"What does he make you call him when you meet? Do you only meet once?"

"He does not introduce himself by name, none of them ever do. As I said, we meet on his terms. During the first meeting, you give him all the information he needs and tell him what you want done with your money. After that, he takes over your finances. He sends you a card once a year with a time and place to meet and review your finances. Other than that he contacts you by email."

"What's his email?" I ask, already knowing the answer, but it doesn't hurt to cover my bases. It could end up being _MrPlatinum_007_ , you never know.

He chuckles at my question, "It's different every time, and from a highly secured server. Miss Sandy, if I may be so blunt, this family does business with corrupt people who have immense power. There have been a number of their clients who have spent a great deal of money trying to find them. Their unsuccessful attempts only make the Bookkeepers more prestigious."

"Does he have a preferred meeting place?" At this point, I'm leaning so far forward that the steel table is digging into my rib cage.

"No. Every time it's a different place, different time. Never the same location. Sometimes it's here in America, other times it's in another country."

 _Damn, these guys are good._

"What else can you tell me?"

"That's all I know. That's all anyone knows. I told you, Miss Sandy, they are known for their mysteriousness. The only other thing I can tell you is that his son is being groomed to take over within the next few years."

I sit back in my chair, processing everything Laurent has told me thus far, which is essentially nothing. Nothing he has said has brought me closer to my goal: finding the true identity of Mr. Platinum.

"That's it?" I stare incredulously at Laurent.

"Do you know more about him than you did walking in? I assume these pictures and the ideas in your head are all you walked in here with. What I have told you, however insignificant you may find it to be, could cost me everything. The Bookkeeper has access to most of my money, and the little he doesn't have access to… Well, I'm sure a man of his intelligence could locate it without much effort. Not to mention, I'm not his only client. Many would gladly have me wiped from existence in order to protect their wealth."

I feel my skin get hot as I grow flustered.

I didn't expect to come in here and be handed a copy of Mr. Platinum's social security card and driver's license. But damn it, when you've been working on a case for nearly two months, and you find your only lead that _might_ actually go somewhere, you get hopeful. It's never taken me this long to find out the identity of _one_ fucking person. I've always been the best at what I do.

I bang my fist on the table in frustration. The steel echoes in the empty room, giving the impression the bang was more forceful than it truly was.

Crowley takes advantage of the opportunity and barges into the room. His eyes bursting with hope that he might have a chance at some action in his mundane, mouth breathing life.

He looks between Laurent and I, disappointment deflating him more with each passing second.

I sigh and look at Laurent, who is eyeing me apprehensively.

I'm pissed that this lead has gone to shit, but I can't ignore the fact that he put his life on the line to tell me this information—however useless it is to me.

"You still have my word. I'll make some phone calls and see what I can do. Thank you for your time, Laurent."

I pick up the photos and stand to leave. Before I walk out the door, Laurent calls my name. I peer over my shoulder at him. His eyes almost seem laced with…concern?

"Tread lightly, Miss Sandy. You don't know how deep the rabbit hole goes. You are dealing with much more than a man, but with his lethal cliental as well." He says before lowering his eyes back down to the table in front of him.

It's the second time I've heard this warning, but this time it sends chills down my spine. I leave without looking back at him, trying to keep my heart from beating out of my own chest.

Before I make it to the rental car, I hear _P.I.M.P._ by 50 Cent blast from my purse. Puzzled, I search for the source.

I take my phone out and see it's Emmett calling me. He must have guessed the passcode to my phone for the hundredth time and changed his contact ringtone. With a roll of my eyes, I answer.

"Classy, Em." I snort, unable to keep the smile from reaching my voice.

He giggles, "Like my new ringtone, huh?"

"It's a step up from the last one, for sure. What'd you find out?"

"Nothing but dick. Just confirmed it's a family business, but they keep their shit on lock down. No one knows anything. You?"

I'm too disappointed to use the dick statement against him.

"Same." I kick the wheel of the car, reminded again of the little progress we've made on this case in two long months.

"Whatever. Let's just get home and keep rereading what we've got. Don't worry, Bells. We'll find something soon enough." He tries sound hopeful, but I can hear the irritation in his voice.

Emmett and I head home, tails tucked between our legs, beyond aggravated with this assignment.

Two weeks later, we're at our wits end rereading case files. Our apartment is a mess. There are papers thrown all around the house, even in the bathrooms. For the past few days, we've opted to work from home, not wanting to waste valuable time on the commute and avoiding all office distractions.

We're sitting at the kitchenette eating left over Chinese take-out from a few nights ago when Emmett looks up from a document.

"You remember Stacy?" He asks.

I look up from my cold low mien, scrunching my face in confusion. "Who?"

"Stacy Grace. The one with the two first names? I dated her for a few months when we were stationed in Chicago early last year. Big tits, little waist."

"No," I dead pan, "you've dated so many women, I couldn't possibly remember them by name anymore."

He shakes his head at me, "Anyways, she used to make me take her to this coffee shop in downtown Chicago, The Coffee Studio. She loved their coffee. They serve it with little designs on the foam. They always changed them every season or for the holidays. At Christmas they had these little trees on them, and for Valentine's Day they designed hearts in the foam. It was really cute."

"Okay…?" I look at him with wide questioning eyes, failing to find the relevance of this particular tidbit of information. My brother has officially gone off the deep end.

"But what they're also known for are their cups. They have these high quality, brick red cups with their logo on them." He hands me a few pictures.

I look at the first one and see Mr. Platinum, his copper haired son, and Royce King. The same picture Kate had shown us in our first briefing. But now I see something I didn't notice before. There, in the hands of Mr. Platinum's son, is a brick red coffee cup.

I flip through the pictures, now looking for the cup in each one. In every picture, there he is holding that cup.

"Bella, these pictures were all taken throughout the last two years. They're with different people, but it's the same cup. There's only one Coffee Studio...Who knew Stacy Grace was good for more than just great sex?" Emmett chuckles, beaming from the discovery.

"A fucking coffee cup." I say, rolling my eyes. I start laughing and find myself unable to stop.

Now it's Emmett's turn to look at me like I've lost my mind.

Once I settle down and wipe the tears from my eyes, I turn back to Emmett.

"For almost three months, we've been racking our brains over this stupid Mr. Platinum, and he gets made because of his son's choice in decorated, overpriced coffee?"

Em chuckles, "I guess when you put it that way, it _is_ hilarious."

"Fucking finally." I sigh, "I'm so tired of reading case files."

I stand and stretch, ready for the great night's sleep ahead of me.

"Time for a stake out!" Emmett exclaims, picking up Lumos for a goofy celebratory dance.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Woot! Onto the good stuff now... Let's see what waits for Bella and Em in Chicago ;)**

 **Let me know your thoughts! Reviews are super awesome and keep the fanfic writer world going round.**

 **I'll get Chapter 3 posted as soon as it's all edited!**


	4. The Dufflebag Debacle

**A/N: Thank you, thank you to everyone who stopped by to read, review, fav, follow, etc! It means a lot to a new writer like myself to have support like you guys.**

 **There's gonna be a lot of "cut to next scene" just cause I'm trying to speed up time while showcasing what's going on in between.**

 **I'll stop talking and meet y'all down below! _**Important note down below**_**

* * *

 **THE DUFFLEBAG DEBACLE**

Sitting on a plane, headed to Chicago, I glance over at Emmett and see that he can still barely contain his excitement. I cannot remember the last time I saw him so amped up about something.

After Emmett and I found the connection between the cup and Mr. Platinum, we had a briefing with Kate the following morning. She explained to us what the next step in our mission would be.

Our first step is to fly to Chicago and set up shop. Em and I will surveil the coffee house in hopes of sighting Mr. Platinum's son—Jazz helping us remotely. Once we have his daily routine down, we will report back to headquarters and see how best to go undercover. Our goal is to get as close to the Book Keeper's as possible without drawing suspicion to ourselves or our objective.

We only had two days to prepare after the briefing. This morning, we stopped by Renee and Charlie's to have breakfast with our family before flying out around noon. With missions like these, it is never certain how long you will need to stake out a target before getting the intel needed to move on further.

The plane is about to land in Chicago, and I am more than excited to have a few hours to myself. We are starting tomorrow morning, so I plan on taking full advantage of my Sunday 'off' to explore Chicago. I purchased my ticket for the Art Institute of Chicago yesterday before packing, knowing I would have the time to spare. Emmett is meeting up with an old Special Forces friend for drinks, leaving me to an evening alone in the city.

Once arriving, we hop a cab to our hotel, located on the outskirts of town. We don't want to risk having a run in with Mr. Platinum, especially since we are not even sure if he lives here.

I check in at the front desk and head to my room. I find my number and realize that Emmett's room is directly across the hall. I enter swiftly and set my bags down by the bed. The scent of freshly laundered sheets mixed with the lingering stench of stale cigarettes is enough to make me wish they could have spotted for a better hotel. Unfortunately, though, 'lavish' isn't in the job description. I take this opportunity to grab a shower; washing away the airport must that has settled onto my skin. Feeling refreshed and ready for a night on the town, I step out of the shower, facing myself in the mirror.

I made the mistake of asking Alice for help with an idea for my hair. For my last mission, I cut my hair short and dyed it black. But since then my hair has grown out and faded back to my natural brown.

Alice, jumping at any chance to improve my look, took me to her favorite salon. The stylist started with a shampoo and condition, and then added some feathered layers into my board straight hair. From there, he and Alice took it a step further by deciding a good dye job was in order. When I was finally allowed to look in a mirror, I was shocked to find myself a blonde. Darker at the roots, the dirty blonde hair progressively lightened to my hair's tips. The ombré style was a little too chic for me, but Alice insisted it looked fabulous. She had already guilt tripped me about not being able to go to her next sonogram appointment, so I didn't want to add to the list of disappointments by changing my hair to a more comfortable shade.

Alice and Jasper announcing their pregnancy made me realize how much Emmett and I miss when we leave for our missions. I love my job, don't get me wrong, but it has it's downsides much like any other. After we finish this job, I think Em and I would benefit from taking on assignments that don't require us to spend as much time in the field. I will have to talk to him, but I am sure he feels the same. At the end of the day, I want to be able to spend more time with my family, especially now that it's growing.

Once settled into our rooms, I drive Em over to the bar he's meeting his friend at. Not knowing how late he will be out, he opts to take a cab back to the hotel, but promises to keep me updated so I don't worry too much about him. We agree to meet for breakfast in the lobby tomorrow at seven.

I arrive at the Institute, quickly walking up the steps, eager to feast my eyes on the beautiful artworks on display. I'm not an art expert by any means, but for as long as I can remember I have enjoyed going to museums, showcases, galleries; anywhere that I could view precious pieces of an artist's soul. I could spend hours perusing the exhibitions, trying to interpret the artist's message behind their pieces. In college I took as many art classes as I could, and they ended up being some of my favorites.

I find myself standing in front of a piece done by Andy Warhol, completely in awe. It is one of Liz Taylor in his trademark Pop Art style.

I have a few of his Campbell's soup prints hanging in my living room. He is a contemporary favorite of mine, even though he passed away a couple years before I was born.

Slowly admiring all the pieces I pass, I head over to the religious art exhibit.

I stop in front of a painting of a woman holding her child closely. I step forward to read the description, already knowing what it says. _The Virgin and Child._

"Beautiful." A velvety smooth voice says from somewhere beside me.

I startle, having not realized I was not alone. It is almost closing time for the museum meaning there are only a handful of people left wandering the halls, most of which are either employees or college students.

If he wasn't blinking or breathing, I would have surely thought the man standing next to me was a statue of a Greek god. A modern interpretation of Adonis would look like if he walked this Earth today.

The Adonis is wearing black slacks and a crisp, light green button up, the sleeves rolled to just below his elbows. His must have known that wearing that shirt would accentuate his gorgeous emerald eyes in such a way that every female within a ten-mile radius would find themselves soaked at their core at the mere sight of him. Mission accomplished, sir.

His five o'clock shadow does nothing to hide his strong jawline. If anything, it makes me want to run my tongue along it more. His stubble is a few shades darker than his hair, which is the strangest shade of auburn. It looks like a mosaic of browns and red, perfectly blended, coming together harmoniously to form a glorious thick mane. The style looks as though he's tirelessly run his hands through it all day. On any other guy it would look messy and unkempt, but on him it embodies the definition of perfection.

"The painting, I mean." He says, that deep voice assaulting me once again, bringing me back to reality.

 _Jesus, even that sounds like pure sex._

I'm surprised I haven't melted into a puddle on the floor—my temperature having risen at least ten degrees in the measly few seconds I have been in his presence, matching that of my rapidly beating of my heart. This must have been how Aphrodite felt when she laid eyes on Adonis for the first time.

I assume he's leaving an art session; probably a male model for the art students here. Seems only fitting.

I suddenly want to enroll in those classes just so I can see him naked. I would probably flunk out the first day. Although, I'm unsure if the cause would be that I was too busy gawking or that I'd fail miserably attempting to duplicate his perfection.

I can already picture myself pleading with the professor.

" _Please, professor. He's just too fucking perfect! I mean, look at him. Even you have to admit, any drawing of him would pale in comparison to the real thing."_

" _Yes, I understand Miss Swan." She'd agree with me. "It's better that you fuck him instead of draw him, that would be the most productive and educational way to become familiar with his body."_

"Uh, anyway… Sorry to bother." He says coolly, looking at me slightly confused.

I shake my head, pushing thoughts of paint brushes coated in acrylics running across his abs.

"Oh, no, no. You weren't bothering me." _By all means, bother away._

He gives me a crooked grin and I have to look down at myself to make sure I haven't started to evaporate where I stand. He steps back to his previous position next to me, facing the painting.

"You like Bitti?" He asks as he examines the portrait, referring to the creator of the masterpiece before us.

"I prefer Titian, personally, but I do admire Bitti for his graceful use of evangelization through art. He does it so flawlessly." I look back to his painting, marveling at the way he has managed to capture Mary's adoration for her baby, Jesus, in an elegant yet refined manner.

"Beautiful and she knows her art." He mutters to himself softly, forgetting I'm standing close enough to hear.

"Do you have a preference?" I ask, entertained at how adorable he looks talking to himself.

He snaps his head towards me and realizes a second later that I am still referring to art.

"I think I'd take Titian over Bitti as well. I love his mythological paintings too much." He smirks, as if he's thinking of an inside joke.

Loud footsteps are suddenly approaching from the end of the large hallway, interrupting our conversation. We both look to the source and spot a heavy set security guard making his way over to us.

"We're closing in a few minutes, folks. If you could please head towards the main entrance, that would be great. The lights are going to time off here in a minute or two. Don't want you getting lost." He drones, passing us without a glance.

I look back at Adonis, smile and indicate goodbye with a slight nod of my head before walking towards the entrance.

"I didn't get your name!" He calls out once I'm down the hall and almost turning the corner.

"I didn't give it to you!" I shout back over my shoulder, keeping my pace. I smile the whole way to the car.

* * *

 **EMMETT POV**

Slipping out of the car, I casually call back a good-bye to Bells, promising to check up on her later.

"Don't have too much fun, big guy." She laughs, rolling her eyes.

"I wouldn't be Emmett if I wasn't planning on a little fun." I wink as I close the car door.

I approach the bar entrance and shoot my buddy a text letting him know I am walking through the door.

 _Yo, G… where you at_ – _E_

 _At the bar – G_

When I enter, I am greeted by a seemingly crowded and lively bar, accentuated by its smaller size. Looking towards the bar in search of Garrett, a hand waving excitedly catches my attention and I see G in the corner.

Leaning against it with a beer in hand, Garret's blue eyes are scouting out his next lay—still the same slick fucker I remember from our days in the force. He's grown out his blonde hair similar to Jazz's and has it pulled into a bun.

"Jesus Christ. What's up with these man buns? Not you, too G!" I groan as I near him.

Laughing, he takes my hand as we exchange a bro hug. "Hey, the ladies dig it. Who am I to deny them what they want?" he says, a sly smirk sneaking across his face.

I chuckle, "As if you don't get enough already."

I nod to the bartender and order a beer before turning back to Garrett.

"So, how you been, man? What are you up to these days?"

"I work freelance security now-a-days. Go wherever business takes me, mainly odd jobs though." He responds with a shrug of his shoulders.

"What job you workin' now?" I ask, sipping my Bud Light.

"Some snobby rich guy. Paranoid about being nuked and invaded by aliens. Has me setting up an undetectable safe house for him with a built in bunker. God, this guy is psycho... I have to drive out to bum fuck Egypt, and then walk about ten miles the rest of the way... Says the government puts tracking devices on every car and can't risk it." He finishes, eyes glued to the bartender's ass.

"Damn, bro... Pays good?"

He smirks, "Incredible. This guy just threw a couple mil at me and asked that I keep it secret."

I nod my head appreciatively, downing the rest of my beer and signaling for another.

"What about you, man? What's the Black Swan been up to?"

"Ugh, I almost forgot about that stupid ass nickname..." I wince. "I have a business with my sister back in DC. Notary office."

G loses his shit, doubling over and howling with laughter.

I respond, rolling my eyes at the fucker. "Listen man, I know it doesn't sound all that great, but it's nice to be working with my sis and be close to family. Pretty chill life, home by six... Good deal."

Garrett composes himself and wipes the tears from his eyes. "Bro, are you fucking serious man? How long have we known each other? Don't come at me with that bullshit. Let's be real, what are you _really_ up to?" He finishes, snickering.

"Dude, I _am_ fucking serious. I'm a notary."

The smile on Garrett's face falters a little before widening again. He leans in, speaking low enough for only me to hear. "E... We've been best friends for how long now? Not only that—I saw you out there man, hell I was there beside you. You were the definition of a perfect soldier. Lethal, precise, never missed a target. A guy like you isn't one to sit still." He raises an eyebrow at me.

I sigh, looking away from G. I know I could trust him, since he has quite literally taken a bullet for me. But I couldn't even tell my own family what I did.

"I may... dabble in _other_ extracurricular activities. But that's all I can say, man." I mutter.

"Ha!" G slaps his knee, "I knew it! It's alright man, that's all I need to know. I wouldn't have let you live that notary shit down if I knew that was all you were up to. Wait 'til I tell Sam you tried to convince me you were a notary!"

"Whatever, asshole." I quip, glaring at him.

Something behind Garrett catches me eye and I look past him. The grip on my beer bottle tightens as I lay my eyes on the hottest piece of ass I have ever seen.

I start at her fuck me pumps—which are bright red and add a couple inches to her already impressive height. It feels like several minutes have passed before I reach her ass, but man, it was worth the wait.

She wears these light-blue jeans that push up her cheeks so perfectly. Her white tank top is tucked into them. The tank itself has no back, showing off her deliciously perfect skin—and from this angle I can see a sliver of the most glorious side boob. The straps that line her collar bone are so thin they look as if they might break supporting her full rack. She has her golden hair tied into one of those complicated braid thingies, with a few locks hanging loose around her face, which unfortunately I still can't see.

Fingers appear in my line of sight, blocking her from my view entirely as they snap together.

"Yo, E... Where'd you go?" Garrett chuckles.

I look back at him, "Oh, yeah. Sorry, man."

He glances back to where I was looking and barks a laugh, "Don't even try it, bro."

I raise an eyebrow, "What are you talking about?"

"Blonde goddess over there... I come here a lot. She does, too. Never seen a guy successfully land that one. Nothing but thrown drinks and red streaked faces in her wake."

I look back, examining her again. Her shoulders are relaxed as she laughs with two girlfriends. I wouldn't be surprised if the heavens opened up and a beam of fucking light came down on this girl as she laughed... She lit up the entire room with that smile.

"You know me. I like a challenge." I wag my eyebrows at Garrett.

I turn to the bartender and order three drinks. Two of them are weak girly ones, but the third, that one's a strong one—a man's drink.

"Pink drinks to the brunettes, please. Old Fashioned to the lovely blonde." I nod to the bartender. She gives me a smirk before passing the drinks to a waitress and relaying the information.

"What are you doing?" G narrows his eyes at me.

"G... A woman like that?" I shrug, pointing at her. "She doesn't deserve some prissy girly drink that only gets you drunk after slamming back eight on an empty stomach. She needs a strong drink that compliments her alpha female personality."

"You got all that... By eye fucking her for thirty seconds?" Garrett asks, eyes wide and mouth gaping.

"Nah, I'm just smart and staying far enough away to not have a drink thrown in my face." I snort.

The drinks arrive at the table and the waitress hands the Bahama mama's to her friends. When she hands the blonde the Old Fashioned, she points to me from across the room.

I stay seated and look away, not wanting her to believe I care enough to watch her receive the drink. Truth is, I'd give anything to see those lips touch the rim of the glass as she takes a sip.

I fall back into conversation with Garrett, he tells me stories about his weird cliental and I offer the stories I deem harmless.

G is in the middle of one involving a helicopter, a machine gun, and a tiny Asian woman when the sound of glass slamming against the bar interrupts.

I slowly turn around and meet steely, sapphire eyes. _Jesus, Swan. Sapphire... Really? What are you, some pansy ass novelist?_

"I'm capable of buying my own drinks, you know." She declares. I don't miss, however, that the glass once sporting an Old Fashioned is completely empty.

"Oh, I'm very well aware of that. I just thought I'd be a gentlemen and offer some lovely ladies a drink, that's all... You have a nice night, miss." I twist back around to Garrett, asking him about the Asian lady's deal with the helicopter situation.

"Yeah, so..." Garrett is eyeing me like I'm out of my mind for turning away from what could very well be Aphrodite herself. "Anyway... We're flying over the Himalayas and she—"

I feel a tap on my shoulder, halting the conversation yet again and I slowly turn.

 _And that's how you play the game, boys and girls._

I look down at her—well, I wouldn't say down, I've only got about three inches on her with those heels on—and offer my world famous, dimply smile.

"Well... Thanks." She says, her eyes shifting around as she fidgets a little. I swear I see her hand jerk towards my drink, no doubt fighting the urge to throw it at me—but she has no reason to, so she stands there, conflicted.

I'm sure this is the first time a man hasn't thrown himself at her. This is uncharted territory—something I'm using to my advantage.

The best advice I have ever received was from my dad, Charlie. He said, "Always make the woman _feel_ like she's in control—when in all reality, _you're_ the one behind the wheel." That right there has gotten me more pussy than I could have ever imagined.

"It was my pleasure." I tip my head towards her, but my body betrays me and my eyes stray a little further down just for a second.

She catches me, narrowing her eyes. _Shit, she's on to me._

We stare at each other for a few seconds. I think she expects me to ask her out, or offer another drink, but I'm not budging.

She huffs and glides back to her table, looking as confused as she is irritated.

I turn back to Garrett, who has dropped trying to play it cool, and his eyebrows are so far up his forehead they almost touch his hairline.

"Bro, what the fuck was that? She's never even said two words to a guy, before!" He exclaims, punching my shoulder.

"Calm down, man. The line has been cast, she's just swimming around debating on whether to bite or not. You'll see." I wink, glancing at her table.

She's faced away from me now but I can see her shoulders are tense and she doesn't appear to be engaging in any conversation with her overly giggly friends.

G picks up where he left off in the story as I order another round. We sit and talk shit for two fucking hours and this chick doesn't even turn back around.

Finally, around midnight I see her sashaying towards G and I, but I act oblivious.

She walks right past me and orders another Old Fashioned from the bartender, standing behind me as I face Garrett. It takes everything I've got not to turn around, pick her up, throw her over my shoulder, and bolt back to my hotel room. Damn, I want this girl bad.

Returning to her friends, she barely casts a glance in my direction. I see Garrett is pretty close to getting shit faced, and I'm starting to get a little hazy myself, so I decide it would be best to call it a night.

I make a show of calling the bartender over to close my tab, hoping maybe to catch Blondie's attention, but I don't feel another tap on my shoulder as I sign the check.

I did everything right. Kept my distance, was polite and didn't throw myself at her, even acted like she didn't exist for half the night. Maybe this chick really did like guys throwing it at her, and subsequently playing hard to get.

I pick up my glass and drain the rest of the Jack and Coke.

"Holy mother fucking shit." Garrett breathes.

"You feelin' it, bro?" I chuckle, shaking my head at him.

He reaches for something next to me and holds it up. It's a business card, slightly wet from being put underneath my glass.

On the back there's a number written on it. I take it out of G's hand and flip it over.

 **FINANCIAL ACCOUNTANT**

 **ROSALIE CULLEN**

I feel my smile grow ten times larger _._

I don't even make it back to the hotel before I punch her number into my phone.

* * *

 **BPOV**

As I'm pouring my coffee at the breakfast bar, I think back to last night with my green-eyed Greek god. _Try and say that three times, fast._

Half of me thinks I've gone crazy and made him up, the other half is disappointed I didn't jump his bones right there in the middle of the institute. I don't think Mary and baby Jesus would have appreciated that much, though.

"Morning… How was your night?" Em comes up beside me, balancing a tray with three plates piled with food.

"Morning, Em. It was actually really nice! The art institute here is amazing. I called it an early night and was in bed by ten. How was yours?" I ask, sitting down at a nearby table.

"Good." He says before stuffing an entire croissant in his mouth.

"Just _good_?" I probe, my fork full of eggs stopped in midair for a second.

He looks up at me from his omelet, "Uh, yeah? Just your typical night with Garrett. Getting drunk and talking shit."

"Hmm... If you say so." I shrug, focusing my attention on the blueberry cream cheese I'm spreading on my bagel.

* * *

The drive to The Coffee Studio takes a little longer than expected due to the heavy traffic, but we still arrive relatively early in the day. Emmett parks the rental, a dark grey SUV, on the opposite side of the street of the café.

I pull out the ear pieces from the glove compartment, handing one to Emmett and placing the other in my ear. Once I click the small button on it, Jasper's voice rings in my ear.

"Morning Sunshines!"

"Hey Jazz." I laugh, "All set?"

"Yep, got you guys all hooked up. I'm hacked into all the security cameras of the neighboring businesses, so I've got a pretty good angle on all sides. Under the driver's seat there should be a camera just in case."

"Alrighty. Thanks, Jazz."

"Call if ya need me. I'll be watching, too." He hangs up the call.

Em and I settle into our seats and wait, watching the coffee shop for any sign of Mr. Platinum.

"This is a step up from reading files all day, huh? People watching is a great pastime." Emmett rubs his hands together and wags his eyebrows at me, ready for the game we play during stakeouts. We guess people's lives or what they're talking about. It makes sitting in a car for fifteen hours a day a lot more interesting.

Stakeouts aren't as glamourous as they seem on TV. The perp doesn't just miraculously appear after a cup of coffee and half a donut.

"So, how long do you think we're gonna have to wait for this guy to show up?" I ask before we start on the game.

"Hmm… I don't know. Let's assume the worst and say he just met with someone yesterday. There were twelve photos with his son in them, out of those, seven had the coffee cup. Over the course of two years? That's maybe once every three and a half months? But it's sporadic, since Laurent told you it's never the same place or time. Given that, I'm thinking… Four months. Six, tops." He nods his head, comfortable with his theory, as if we're not the ones who will be subjected to sit in a car for six months. We can only hope that Mr. Platinum's son comes back in town for his favorite cup of coffee way before then.

"Lovely. Just in time for Alice's baby." I remark sarcastically before taking a bite out of my bagel.

"Well, at least you get to call her while we're on stake out duty. We're not officially under cover yet. That's a plus in my book."

"Are you ever pessimistic about anything in your life?" I ask, genuinely interested in how he will respond.

"You should know the answer to that by now, Bells."

"Very true." I roll my eyes and look out the front window at a couple arguing. I perk up at this, "Oh! Got one. Couple over there, guy waving his hands in frustration at his girl."

Emmett spots the couple from across the street and laughs, "Too easy. They're arguing about money, she has a shopping bag in her hand and keeps flinging it around like she's ashamed it doesn't have more in it."

"Or maybe she's frustrated because he won't let her have her real birthday wish—a threesome with another very large, very hairy man." I look at the woman who has now shoved the bag into the man's chest and stormed off.

Emmett lowers the window a little as the couple gets closer to the car.

"Oh come on, Megan! Don't be like this. My next paycheck's coming soon I promise I'll get it for you then… Come back here!" The guy yells after her, desperate for her to turn around.

I sigh, accepting my loss. "Okay, fine. First point."

Again, Emmett and I fall into a routine like this for a few weeks. We get to the coffee shop every morning when it opens around six, and leave again for the night once they close up shop at nine.

We spend a few days each week coming up with a proposition for the CIA. It consists of hiring a specific number of agents who are in charge of all the stake outs. Coming up with salary, paid time off, and other provisions for this position fills most of our days.

I start praying every night before bed that this guy shows up quickly. At least when doing research we're in the comfort of our own home or office. Now we're in a stuffy car, unable to even get out and stretch.

Being stuck in a car all day, every day isn't what I had pictured when joining the CIA. But after some time being a field agent, I began to learn that you have to suffer through the mundane in order to get to the action. It was like this on every mission. You scout your target, watch, and wait. Once you find out enough information, the real shit starts.

* * *

The first day of August is a cool, overcast one. Chicago temperature is lowering, preparing for the winter. I revel in this; I prefer the cold.

I end my FaceTime call with Alice—she video called me to show me what Nox did to her couch pillows—when I see the time. It's only ten in the morning, we've still got about eight hours ahead of us. The café closes at six on Sundays, which I'm thankful for, but it's of no help at the beginning of our shift.

"I think I'm gonna take a nap." I push the seat back a little and pull my baseball cap down over my eyes. "Wake me up if you see something interesting." I mumble over to Emmett.

"Okay, so around Christmas time?"

"Ha-ha. Look at Mr. Optimistic, finally starting to crack." I smirk, closing my eyes.

"Hey I still got half a dozen donuts left. Lookin' like a good day to me."

I fall asleep quickly, already accustomed to the leather seats in this car. My dreams are filled with giant cats chasing after me. When they claw at me, instead of blood, cotton filling comes pouring out of me. I'm sewing myself up after a brutal attack, preparing for the next wave of killer cats, when Emmett jostles me awake.

"Bella! Bella! Wake the fuck up, _it's Mr. Platinum_!"

I jerk awake in my seat, highly alert and push my hat back up. I wildly look around look for the familiar head of platinum blonde hair. It is only after a few seconds that I spot him sitting at a table outside The Coffee Studio.

He looks so ordinary. Granted, he's drop dead gorgeous, but still, just ordinary. He's drinking his coffee and reading the newspaper like any other person. I also notice that he looks pretty young to have a son who is all grown up. I can't see his features in detail, being this far away, but from what I can see, he is nothing like I imagined. His face is too kind to be dealing with the likes of the people he deals with. It could just be the distance, though.

"Are you sure? This guy looks too vanilla." I squint my eyes trying to get a better look at him.

"Bella, it's him. I'm _positive._ It's the right hair color, right build. Everything checks out. Besides, these aren't cold blooded killers we're dealing with. Just the bunch of nerds who handle their money." Em scoffs.

I continue scrutinizing him for a few more minutes when he is suddenly joined by another man. I look over to see who is joining him.

 _Holy fuck balls, it's Adonis!_

"Adonis? How do you know his name?"

 _Fuck, I said that out loud._

"Uh no, I don't," I try and fake a laugh as if to brush it off, "it's a possible alias I found in one of the files. Just guessing."

Emmett furrows his eyebrows at me, "What file was that in?"

"Guys, are you getting this?" Jasper's voice fills the car, coming from the Bluetooth speaker installed in it.

I jump at the chance to get out of this conversation, "Yes, yes. Mr. Platinum and his son are having fucking coffee like a bunch of normal people."

"Once they're done, you need to follow him. This could be our only chance for another few months."

Emmett and I wait, barely blinking as we stare out at Mr. Platinum and his son, Adonis. I briefly wonder what their real names are, having only ever called them by their made up nicknames.

"Fuck, I wish we had two cars. I didn't think they'd both show up here at the same time." Emmett growls.

"Well, let's follow Mr. Platinum. He's technically the one in charge for now, so he's the one with all the books. Maybe we'll get lucky and his son will come back. He's in town, I assume he won't be here for just a day."

As I say this to Emmett, I realize that Adonis has been in town much longer than a day. I ran into him at the museum almost three weeks ago. Why has he been here for so long?

The waitress from the café comes out to take Adonis' order. She laughs a little too hard and finds any excuse to touch him. Even from here, her flirting is blatantly obvious.

 _Hands off my man, blondie._

"Careful, home girl. That's one rabbit hole you definitely don't want to fall into." Emmett warns.

I whip my head towards Emmett, freaked out that I've voiced my thoughts, to my dismay, out loud again. There's no way I could ever come up with an excuse for _that_. But he's looking at the waitress, cautioning her as if she can hear him from in the car.

The two are left alone and talk for a quite some time in front of the café. After almost an hour, they stand and embrace before parting ways.

Emmett starts the car, preparing to follow Mr. Platinum.

It's just after lunch time so traffic isn't as heavy now with a lot of people having returned to work. This makes it easier to follow him without having some road-raged psycho blasting their horn at us for being slow.

I watch as Mr. Platinum turns the corner of the street, Emmett far enough behind so that he won't notice our car, but close enough to keep him in our sights.

We watch as he gets into a white, four door Jaguar. Even the car seems ordinary compared to the amount of money I am sure this guy makes.

"Fuck yes! Show time." Emmett steps on the gas as Mr. Platinum pulls onto the street.

We follow him for about twenty minutes before the roads turn into two lane streets. The houses start getting farther apart from each other the longer the car ride.

Em has a little trouble with staying far enough behind so that it doesn't look like we're following Mr. Platinum. It's the middle of the day and there aren't many cars that we are able to hide behind.

After another fifteen minutes, the white car suddenly takes a sharp right onto a private road. Emmett speeds up a little and passes where the car turned. He doubles back after a few minutes and we slow down once we reach the dirt road the car pulled into.

"I don't think you guys should keep following him, it's too bright outside." Jasper's voice comes back over the speaker.

"I know. We'll come back tonight when it's dark. We don't know what's up there." Emmett opens the maps app on his phone and drops a pin before driving back to the hotel.

Now that the adrenaline is gone, I have time to think about Adonis.

I should have known something so perfect was too good to be true. Of course he's a criminal. I stare out the window disappointedly.

"You okay?" Em looks over at me, concern ever present in his eyes.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" I ask with my best attempt at nonchalance.

"I don't know. You're usually a lot more excited about these kinds of things. Our only lead is finally holding up and you're staring out the window, moping like Nox just tore up your favorite pillow."

"I'm not moping," I roll my eyes, "I'm just hungry. And I'm thinking about what's waiting for us up there."

"Good, I'm hungry, too. We'll find out the other stuff tonight."

* * *

Once it's dark out, Emmett and I prepare to go back out to where we left Mr. Platinum.

I'm wearing comfortable black running pants, a black zip up training jacket and my favorite pair of Nike's. I'm tucking my gun into my waistband when I hear Em knock at my door.

I open it to a serious looking Emmett, ready for tonight. I put on a dark baseball cap before following him out to the car.

The ride is silent until Emmett pulls up about a quarter of a mile away from the turn Mr. Platinum's white car took earlier that day.

"We're just gonna scout out the place tonight, see why he's there." Emmett whispers.

"Em, you know we're not there yet, right? You don't have to whisper." I don't know why, but even saying the words doesn't stop me from whispering this back to him.

"Right. Sorry, just practicing."

We put in our ear pieces and exit the car, walking the rest of the way.

Jasper starts talking immediately once I have activated the piece.

"I have back up on standby in case you guys run into any trouble. Say the word and they'll be there in three minutes. Be careful, guys. Emmett, I hope you guys didn't have Mexican today."

"You know my farts are silent but deadly, don't even play!" Emmett hisses.

"2011 Tijuana trip begs to differ." Jazz snorts.

"I think you're getting confused with your farts. _You_ might blow our cover all the way from DC with those things."

"Would you two shut the hell up for five minutes? We're here." I demand, rolling my eyes and continuing up the private road.

Em and I choose to walk in the trees surrounding the road to avoid any exposure if a car comes. Em follows behind, making sure our backs our covered while I scout what's in front of us.

We walk for ten minutes before the trees start thinning and the road becomes paved. I stop just shy of the last row of trees.

Emmett crashes into my back, not aware that I stopped.

"How you ever made in into Special Forces is beyond me." I mutter.

"I'll have you know I was the best in my squad." He boasts quietly.

I ignore him and grab a thick branch that's in my way and hold it down so I have a clear line of sight.

It's too dark to make out much, but there are a few lights on, illuminating parts of the seemingly massive house.

"Hand me the night vision binoculars, please." Speaking low enough for just Emmett to hear.

"What? I thought you brought the bag with you? You're the one who packed it."

" _What_? Are you fucking kidding me?!" I seethe.

"Does it look like I'm _fucking kidding_?"

"Emmett, you had one job! I asked you to get it out of the car." I whisper-yell, jabbing him in the chest with a finger.

"Yeah you asked me to get it out, but you didn't ask me to bring it up. How am I supposed to know that's what you wanted?" He whisper-yells back to me.

"It's fucking common sense, Emmett! Why the fuck would I ask you to take it out and just leave it out side of the car?" I respond, not bothering to hide the anger and annoyance in my voice.

I hear Jazz cackling in my ear, finding his siblings' quiet argument amusing.

"Shut up, Jazz." I growl, "Emmett, go back to the car and get the bag. I'll wait here. And make sure you grab the bag _and_ everything in it, not _just_ the bag. Is that clear enough for you?"

"Yes, your Highness." Emmett mutters as he stomps back to the car.

I fume quietly, waiting for Emmett to return.

Twenty minutes later, he comes back with the bag and pulls out the night vision binoculars.

I silently turn back to the house, bringing the binoculars up to my eyes so I can get a better look.

I examine the perimeter of the house and find there are no guards on duty. Odd. Someone with this much of a need for secrecy should have some form of security. I look for cameras or any other sign of security tech.

"So far I only see two cameras on the front of the house, but no other sign of security. Let's circle around and see what's in the back."

Emmett nods and we walk along the edge of the tree line towards the back. It takes a few extra minutes, but it's better to be hidden for now. It's almost midnight, but I don't know the hours a crime boss' accountant works. He could be awake and roaming the house for all we know.

Once we reach the back side of the house, I pull down another thick branch to scout for any other signs of security Mr. Platinum might have.

"I don't see any cameras. This just keeps getting weirder. Why have cameras in the front but not the back?" I turn around and ask Emmett, feeling as though I have some of the puzzle pieces without the picture of what the puzzle itself is supposed to look like.

"Maybe there's reason. What's down there?" He points behind us, where it's too dark to see.

"Lake Michigan." Jasper answers, "I checked your location. The back of the house faces Lake Michigan. I assume that they rely on it as a form of protection for the back of the house."

Emmett taps my shoulder and points up to a tree about ten feet behind us.

"Fuck that was close." I whisper.

There's a camera facing in the direction of the lake attached to the top of the tree so it's unable to see us.

"If there is one, then there's probably more around here." Em states while looking cautiously about.

"Well we know there aren't any directly on the house, so we should get a little closer from this side." I say before walking towards the house.

I forget that I was holding onto a thick branch and let it go to as soon as I decided to get closer to the house. It snaps back and hits Emmett in the face with brutal force.

"Shit!" He swears.

"Ssshhh!" I smack him in the shoulder, reminding him we have to be quiet.

He looks down at me annoyed, bright red scratches all down the side of his face.

I whisper an apology before turning back around to walk towards the house. I try not to giggle along with Jasper, who is barely containing himself at this point.

"Don't tell me what happened. I'm having too much fun thinking of all the possibilities." Jazz snickers.

"Shut up, Jazz." Emmett grunts.

We make our way slowly towards the house until Emmett sticks his hand out in front of me, motioning to stop. We're about a hundred yards away now.

He nods his head towards the ground, indicating I should look a few feet in front of us. I have to wait a few seconds for my eyes to adjust before I understand what he's seeing.

There's a small, faint red line.

"Motion sensor." He murmurs.

I crouch down and use the binoculars to see into the house. There's a light coming from one of the windows.

The window shows half of an elaborate kitchen. There is a woman standing next to the stove, looking at a kettle, waiting for it to start steaming. She reaches up and opens a cabinet, taking out a mug. She's has a dark blue robe on, so I assume she's not a maid.

"Emmett I think they live here. This is their house." I whisper.

I hand him the binoculars so he can see into the house, he nods his head in agreeance after he appraises the woman.

"It makes sense. The Coffee Studio is a hole-in-the-wall café, mostly locals go there." He adds.

Suddenly the back door of the house opens, the light from within the house flooding the backyard.

"Shit." I stand up and we both sprint back to the edge of the trees, careful to keep our footsteps light.

Once we're well hidden behind the trees we look back to see who opened the door. It's Mr. Platinum, talking on a phone. He leisurely strolls through the garden as he converses for a few minutes. Once he is done with the phone call he walks back into the house.

We watch as light by light turns off until the house is shrouded in darkness. Em and I wait a few minutes before we start walking back towards the car.

"I can't believe they've been a two-hour flight away from us this whole time." Emmett gripes as we drive back to the hotel.

"I'll check who's name the house is under tomorrow morning. Then we'll see what Kate thinks is the next best step." Jasper says before leaving us to our own thoughts.

The whole drive back I think about any and all ways I can avoid seeing Adonis again. I fail to find any that seem rational and plausible. This mission is definitely going to be more difficult than I could have ever expected.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **A thank you to my wonderfully talented beta, Kenz.**

 **We have a good dynamic here going, she's a full time mommy w/ a full time job and so she squeezes in edits where she can.**

 **I have a pretty laid back schedule with night classes and work during the day, but I mainly do all my writing at work (weird, I know but that's the life of a receptionist) so** **I have about the next 10 chapters written already and as long as we both keep this pace and nothing crazy happens you should see updates every two weeks or so! :)**

 **I'll update every chapter with an estimated time line, I'm thinking the next chapter might come sooner than two weeks!**

 ** _**** IMPORTANT NOTE: ****_ Because of all my pennames on various fic sites, I'm trying to keep as many as I can the same to avoid confusion. _I WILL BE CHANGING MY PEN NAME AT THE END OF THE WEEK_ to Trainwreque, so don't get confused if you follow me and see a different name when I update the new chapter. The _only_ pennames you will ever see me use are  Sancheaazy, Trainwreque, or 2blkcadillacs.**


	5. The Flower Shop Debacle

**A/N: Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.**

 **Happy Sunday! This update took a few days longer cause I wanted to push my updates to the weekend, which makes it easier for me.**

 **Special thank you to each and everyone who read, reviewed, followed, favorited, etc! You guys are amazing and I'm overjoyed with the support I've gotten on this story!**

 **See y'all down below :)**

* * *

 **THE FLOWER SHOP DEBACLE**

The morning after we scouted the house, Emmett and I made our way back to the café in hopes of spotting Mr. Platinum's son.

My phone starts to buzz around noon, and I look to find Kate calling. Putting her on speaker so Emmett can hear, too, I answer.

"Good work." She starts, without so much as a hello, "Jasper found out that the house is registered under the name Elizabeth Masen. So far we've found nothing on her but a death certificate dated nearly ten years ago. It is possible she is a relative of the Bookkeeper, having left the house to him when she passed. We're doing a further background check in hopes of finding any small connection.

"Disregard the son for now. Follow the Bookkeeper and figure out his routine. That is how we'll find out your undercover identities and how best to infiltrate the target." She hangs up the call, not waiting for any sort of acknowledgment on our part. That's Kate for you.

"Ah, Kate. She's just _so_ warm and fuzzy, you can't help but love her." Emmett states in a snarky tone before starting up the car and driving towards the hotel to pick up the necessities.

That night, Em and I place a few surveillance cameras strategically on a handful of trees surrounding the property, making sure to face them toward the drive way and house. Thankfully, Emmett remembers to bring everything this time. The cameras will tell us when Mr. Platinum leaves his house so we can effectively tail him. When the opportunity presents itself, a tracking device will be placed on his vehicle, making our jobs even easier.

* * *

Following around Mr. Platinum proves to be almost the most boring task—a close second to stake outs. After a couple days, we discern he has two accounting offices, each approximately a twenty-minute drive from his residence. The building he works mainly out of is located in a plaza between a nail salon and a Vietnamese take-out restaurant. The other is a large, multi-business building with individual offices inside. I have to admit, he is a pretty clever guy. He makes himself seem so boring, monotonously going from one job to the other, that no one would or could ever suspect he secretly works for the world's most dangerous criminals.

The offices both belong to Masen Accounting. Unfortunately for us, the only similarity is the last name. The company is registered to an Anthony Masen. To our dismay, we are unable to find anything sinister on this guy. Not so much as even a damn parking ticket. It looks as though he is a retired accountant, owning a few offices throughout the country. Masen's home office is in San Francisco, where he lives. The picture the DMV provided is not Mr. Platinum. Em and I believe this is a carefully crafted move, allowing Mr. Platinum to stay under the radar with nothing in his name, effectively avoiding a paper trail of any kind.

I hate to admit it, but lately I have been living for the weekday mornings the Adonis goes to work with his father. I get aggravated by the involuntary goosebumps that make their way across my skin at the mere sight of his Tesla rounding the corner.

There is no chance in Hell I could ever be with a guy like him—my job would never allow it. But more so, I don't know if my heart would allow it. Still, it never hurt anyone to just _look_.

After two weeks, we have Mr. Platinum's schedule memorized, so much so I could probably recite it in my sleep. He drives to work every weekday around 7:30 a.m., leaves the office around 5:30 p.m., drives to a flower shop approximately fifteen minutes down the road, then drives straight home, arriving just in time for dinner with his wife. The flowers, as always, are for her. Jasper ran a background check on the flower shop and it's employees and it turns out they are a legit business. Weekend mornings are reserved for breakfast with his wife—he cooks—then spends the rest of the day at his residence.

I'm completely consumed with a cross word puzzle while we sit in our car, parked in the plaza's parking lot, when Emmett huffs loudly in frustration.

"Jesus, _fuck_. Now I'm starting to question if this guy really is Mr. Platinum. How can he be so dull?" He fumes, rubbing his hands through his hair haphazardly.

"Beats the hell out of me. If he is, this might just be the best cover in the history of criminals." I respond sarcastically. I can understand Em's frustration. We thought we were tailing a dangerous individual, but it seems we are just following a boring accountant who happens to love his wife.

We see Mr. Platinum and Adonis exit the office at their usual time. Em and I shrink back into our seats instinctually, making us harder to see. Em starts the car and we begin to follows Mr. Platinum, making sure he goes back home.

Once he does, we start heading back to the hotel.

"Maybe we should follow his son for a bit." Emmett suggests with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

"No!" I say too quickly, causing Emmett to look at me sideways and arch an eyebrow, the perplexed look on his face not one that could be easily missed. I mentally calm myself down, not understanding my sudden outburst at the idea of following the Adonis around. "Kate said we follow Mr. Platinum. _He's_ the head of the business right now. _He's_ training his son. That in and of itself means his son isn't doing anything without him. Following him would be a lost cause."

My phone vibrates in my pocket. Pulling it out, I check the notification. One of our camera's detected movement again.

"Shit, turn back around Em. He's leaving again." I say, the urgency ever apparent in my voice.

Emmett does a quick turn around and slams the gas. We make it just in time to see Mr. Platinum's car exit the private road that leads to his home. It is dusk, which makes following him exponentially easier.

We follow Mr. Platinum for twenty minutes or so, heading towards Chicago. Suddenly, the white jaguar turns into a gated community. Luckily, the car in between us pulls into the same community, so us pulling in behind won't look as suspicious.

The jaguar pulls up to one of the town homes, turning into the drive way and parks. Mr. Platinum gets out of the car and walks over to the passenger side. Opening the door, his wife exits the vehicle.

Even from a hundred feet away, I can feel the love radiate off of them. I can see it in way his hand reaches out and grasps hers gently while she's getting out the car; sense it in the way his hand naturally finds the small of her back as he guides her to the door. They exchange a quick, loving kiss before knocking on the door, alerting the owners their guests have arrived.

I don't catch who opens the door, too busy gawking at the happy couple.

"Did you see who lives there?" I ask Emmett, trying to cover the lack of attention I paid to such an important detail.

He stares straight ahead, apparently not having heard me, as he sports a strange look on his face.

"Emmett?" I probe.

He whips his head towards me, the look from a few seconds ago now morphed into a serious one. "No, but now is as good time as any to put that tracker on his car."

I reach for the bag located in the back seat that holds the tracker.

"I'll do it, I'm faster." I say as I open the door to exit the car.

"I'll keep look out." Em nods.

I walk at a relaxed pace towards the jaguar, not wanting to arouse suspicion to any neighbors that might be outside. Once I reach it, I crouch down next to the passenger's side door. I look around quickly before I lay down flat on my back and slide underneath the car. Once in position, I place the small tracking device near the axle holding the wheel.

I quickly return to an upright position and head back to our car, breathing a sigh a relief once I am safely behind those four metal doors.

"Damn, I almost forgot what that feels like." I murmur. The adrenaline rush when sneaking around is so euphoric, it is dangerously addicting.

The task was quite boring compared to other jobs I have had to do in past missions, but the stand still we have been in over the last few months has contributed to this stalemate of sorts. It's like my body knows this is just beginning, and couldn't help but shiver in anticipation at this mundane task.

Em laughs as he starts driving to the hotel. Now that we have the tracking device in place, we don't have to constantly tail Mr. Platinum.

"Hey, Bells?" Emmett probes, questioningly.

"Hmm?" I open my eyes and realize I've almost fallen asleep on the short drive.

"I think I have an idea."

When I don't hear him continue, I turn my head to look at him. He has his phone in his hand, dialing Kate.

"Daniels." Kate answers with her version of hello—stating her last name.

"Kate, is there any way we can look into buying that nail salon that's closing next to Masen Accounting? I think it's a great opportunity to set up a neighboring business to keep a closer eye on the Bookkeeper and get to know him a little more personally."

"I can make it happen. What else do you need?" Kate responds, emotionless as ever.

"Uh, do you know what's required to be a manager for a coffee shop?" Em jests.

The joke, unsurprisingly, doesn't faze Kate in the least. "I'll set you up with a good resume, Emmett."

Em's eyes go wide before he tries to cut her off, "No, it's for—"

Kate ends the call, cutting him off before he can finish.

I laugh, knowing soon enough that Emmett will have to wear a red apron.

"That was supposed to be for you... Now _I'm_ gonna get stuck being the barista." He gripes.

I double over in laughter, now with a full blown image in my head, including Emmett drawing hearts in coffee foam.

He stares at me, unamused, and waits impatiently for me to quiet down.

"What business were you thinking of putting in the nail building?" I giggle, still picturing my brother, emasculated in the red apron pouring strangers' coffee.

" _I_ was going to open up a flower shop next door. Mr. Platinum always drives to that shop fifteen minutes down the road, right? Well, he wouldn't have to if there was one right next door. That allows me—or, now you—to get friendly with him. Plus, we can listen in on everything from next door." Em says, smiling at the brilliance of the idea.

Impressed, I raise my eyebrows at him and nod. "That's actually a really good idea, Em. You thought of that all by yourself?"

He rolls his eyes, parking the car, signaling our arrival at the hotel. "Although I act like one sometimes, I'm not a full blown dumbass."

" _Sometimes_ , he says." I mutter to myself, smiling.

* * *

Kate doesn't waste any time getting the paperwork approving the money to buy the business next to Masen Accounting. The only thing she did faster was setting Emmett up with a new identity and a glowing resume. By glowing, I mean Emmett's new cover was a coffee shop manager looking for a new shop to manage.

Emmett had seen The Coffee Studio was needing to hire a new store manager and thought it would be perfect for me. Mr. Platinum's son went there every day, and managing would allow me to keep tabs on him while Emmett pursued his father.

I make a mental note to send a bottle of vodka and black licorice to Kate—her favorite—to thank her for setting Em up with the best fake identity, _ever_.

Emmett got hired on the spot due to his being completely over qualified, which Jazz and I haven't let up on teasing him about, and don't see a time when we ever will. The Coffee Shop even offered him the apartment upstairs at a discount. He is going to move in there later today.

I was still waiting to hear back from Jasper on setting me up with my own place near the flower shop. For now, I was preparing to open up the store. Jazz had sent over all the documents I needed for my new profile, so now it was just a matter of fine tuning the details.

My new name is Marie Woods. I'm from Lovell, Wyoming, a _very_ small town with a population of around 2,000. I studied business at the University of Wyoming and afterwards managed a local restaurant. My fake parents had passed away when I was a toddler, so my grandmother raised me. She passed away shortly after high school, leaving me with no other living relatives. It was a one page profile—boring, just like Mr. Platinum's cover.

Emmett was given a different life. Kate thought it best that we aren't associated, so on the off chance one of us is made, the other can still continue without a blown cover.

I'm sweeping up the last of debris from the remodel of the flower shop when I hear movement coming from the front of the shop. I glance at the clock in the backroom. It is half past ten; all other businesses are closed by now. I hear another footstep and I gently lean the broom against the wall, taking care to ensure no noise is made alerting the intruder.

I move quietly toward the front of the shop, my hand grasping my gun that is tucked in the back of my jeans. I don't dare draw just in case it's a cop. I'm not supposed to be carrying a gun, after all I am Marie Woods, not Isabella Swan.

Another footstep.

I stand next to the doorway, listening closely; the sound of my breathing seems louder in the eerie quiet. I wait another minute before peeking from my hiding place to see the intruder.

"Jesus, Jasper." I sigh in relief, "You scared the living shit out of me." I remove my hand from my gun.

Now that I'm not on high alert, I remember Jazz is supposed to be in DC, and am now overwhelmed with confusion.

"Wait. What are you doing here?" I ask in a slightly accusatory manner.

"You didn't think you could set up all the equipment by yourself, did you?" He teases, but only makes the briefest of eye contact.

"Well, I kinda would have been forced to. Emmett's no use when it comes to that stuff." I remark, remembering when Emmett and I had first moved into our apartment in DC. He short circuited half the building attempting to set up our internet router.

He can take down six armed men in the blink of an eye with his bare hands, but he can't find his way around an iPhone to save his life.

Jazz laughs and gives me a hug hello. He still has that glow I left him with in DC, but it's a little more subdued now, which I find odd and is just adding more questions to my list.

"Blonde, eh?" He catches a lock of my hair in his hand and arches an eyebrow.

"Alice." Is all I say before turning around and heading to the back where the equipment located.

Jasper follows and starts unboxing computers, routers, and a few other things I couldn't name for the life of me.

"How long are you here for?" I ask, watching him find homes for all of the miscellaneous cables.

"Just for a few hours, I'm catching the red eye back." He responds curtly.

"You could have just sent a tech that is stationed around here." I say, still trying to figure out his angle. Jasper rarely ever travels for his job. I can't help but find it strange that he'd fly out just for a few hours when he could have easily sent in someone from his team.

"I know." He agrees without elaborating. He's a little too focused on what he's doing, brushing off my comment as if this is a normal occurrence.

I've known Jasper long enough to know something's up, but I don't press it. He will tell me the real reason for his visit in due time.

He quietly sets everything up and makes sure it's running before showing me how to work each gadget.

"This computer here, it's constantly recording what is being said on the other side of the wall. You're going to have to find frames or something to cover the holes I drilled into the wall for the mics. This computer has access to the cameras you and Em placed at Mr. Platinum's house as well as the tracking device you put on his car.

This box has some new tech I made that just got approved. You won't need them now, but you might in the future. I'll let you know when you're going to need them, so you can just put this box in the safe for now. Just make sure not to turn the computers off and you're all set."

I don't fail to notice that he never once looked me in the eye, once again, while explaining everything.

"Alright, sounds easy enough. Thanks, Jazz." I smile and motion for us to close up shop.

As I'm locking the door to the back room I hear Jasper say something but I don't catch it.

"What'd you say?" I ask, having a little trouble turning the key.

"I said I'm scared." His voice has a tremor in it that makes me completely forget about the key and I turn to face him.

His eyes are downcast, not wanting to meet mine. His shoulders are tense and I can see his hands shaking every so slightly. Jasper has always been one to keep complete control of his emotions. He's always been my strong, level-headed older brother. I'm not used to the scared and anxious man standing before me.

"Oh, Jazz." I whisper as I step forward and wrap my arms around him.

He hugs me back for several long seconds before he talks.

"I just... I can't talk to mom about it. I know she loves Charlie so much, but every time anyone mentions my dad she tears up. I can't hurt her like that... And I can't talk to Alice about it, she's freaking out so much right now. Last Thursday she broke down crying in the middle of Target because they ran out of lavender bath soap. I'm just trying to be strong for her, you know? She really misses you. You're better at this stuff than I am."

Tears sting my eyes before they make their way down my face. I want so badly to be there for my family in DC, but I can't drop everything here and go back home; it is just not in the job description.

"What's wrong, Jazz? Talk to me." I step back and grab his hand, squeezing it to convey encouragement.

"Hey." He warns playfully, wiping a tear off my face. "This is my break down, not yours."

"Sorry," I laugh through a sniff, wiping down the rest of my face with my sleeve.

"I'm just scared, Bells... This whole time I've been thinking about my dad. That could happen to me, too. I know I'm not in the field like you and Emmett are, but I still work for the Agency. What if someone decides to bomb the office? And it's not just my job, either. What if some drunk driver hits me on the way home from work?

"I just can't imagine leaving Alice alone with the baby. Not seeing my daughter grow up. Not being able to be there for graduation, or walk my baby girl down the aisle. Maybe Alice won't be lucky enough to find someone like Charlie to take care of her like mom did. She'll be all alone with no one to help her. That's what scares me."

For the first time in my life, I see tears in my brother's eyes and it shatters my heart.

"You can't think like that, Jazz. You can't just live your life in fear that you suddenly won't be there for Alice and the baby.

"Think about your dad, he was never scared about the dangers of his job. He was there for Renee and loved her fiercely for the time they were given together. Don't let your fear hinder you from enjoying the life you've created with Alice. That's not fair to either of you. I can't imagine my life, or any of our lives without you, Jazz.

"I'm only saying this to put your mind at ease a little, but Alice would never be alone. She has _us—_ her family. Emmett and I, Mom and Dad. We're always going to take care of her, whether you're here or not." I say, hoping everything I have said makes sense.

I see him take in everything, giving me a small smile.

"You're right, Bells. I needed to hear that. Thank you." He pulls me in for another hug.

"I know. I'm always right." I grin, teasing him.

He laughs and walks with me out the door, helping me turn off the lights to the shop. He puts his arm around my shoulder as he walks me to my new rental, a baby blue VW Beetle.

"I'll see you soon, Bells. Alice would break into headquarters and find out where you are to come kill you herself if you missed her baby shower." Jazz chuckles as he opens my car door.

"So you're having a girl?" I beam, remembering his slip up earlier.

"Oh, fuck." He smacks his hand on his forehead, "Alice was supposed to tell you that. Please act surprised when she does. But, yeah... A little girl" His smile stretches from ear to ear as he looks back at me.

"That's amazing, Jasper." I launch myself at him one last time, giving a congratulatory hug. "I can already picture Emmett showing her how to kick other boys' asses." I giggle.

"Speaking of Emmett, you tell him about this and I will end you." He points a finger at me. I know he isn't talking about the gender of the baby, but rather my seeing him cry.

I roll my eyes as I get in the car, "Yeah, yeah. Secret's safe with me, Pansy."

"Hey!" He turns and walks backwards towards his car, "That's _Mister_ Pansy to you, lady." And with that, Jasper hops into his car, and I know he is headed to the airport. It was great to see him, even for such a short amount of time. Knowing I may have been able to assuage his concerns, even in the tiniest of ways, warms my heart.

I open the flower shop for business later that week on Saturday. I have two clients in the morning, one birthday and one anniversary. After catching up with Em, I FaceTime Alice to help me make arrangements with the flowers I've got in inventory. Lord knows I don't have any experience in this department.

"Hmm... Add a little more baby's breath near the back to even everything out... Yep, right there. Perfect! Make sure you order Gerbera Daisies, Arundina Orchids, and get some purple and blue Hydrangeas, too. Those are popular."

I'm relieved that Alice never asks questions about my job. She understands what I do and doesn't press to know about that aspect of my life. All other aspects, however, she's relentless.

"Thanks so much, Alice." I sigh in relief, putting the flowers in the cooler for the customer to pick up later.

"That's what I'm here for!" She giggles.

Now that I'm finished with the arrangements, I sit down so I can talk to Alice about the other reason why I called.

"So, how are you?" I ask nonchalantly.

"I'm good! Or well, we're good." She pats her belly, which has already formed a small bump. "The nursery is almost done, I just haven't decided yet on the crib—it's between mahogany or American oak. I'm finalizing all the details for the baby shower next week. I know it's not for another few months, but I know as I get bigger I'll start slowing down a bit so I want everything finished—"

"—No, Alice." I cut her off, "I mean, _how are you_? Really." My eyes imploring her to tell me the truth.

I probably could have transitioned into this conversation a lot more smoothly. I forgot that pregnancy hormones plus Alice are a bad combo. She immediately breaks down weeping as soon as I ask.

"Oh, Bella—" _Sniff_ , "I'm a mess, everything's a mess!" She wails, "Lauren quit on me and the mayor's daughter gets married in three weeks, so I had to take over the entire project on top of all my work. Albus keeps shitting everywhere and Nox tears up all the pillows I get for the living room. Jasper won't tell me what's wrong. He's been so sweet and perfect for me, but I can just tell something's wrong. I know there is, and he just won't tell me. I think it's me, Bella. I think I've just become too much for him and I stress him out with my planning, and my work, and now the baby, I just—"

"Alice, Alice." I cut her off for the second time, worried about her passing out from not taking any breaths in between sentences. "Breathe, okay? Just breathe."

I see her take several deep breathes as she calms herself down, fanning herself with her hand. I relax after hearing everything that's wrong with Alice. _This I can handle._

"Okay... You good now?" I ask carefully.

She nods quietly. I see Lumos jump up in her lap at the bottom of the screen, coming to the rescue with cuddles.

"Okay...Call Angela, ask her to take over the wedding, she'll understand. For the billionth time, Alice, _hire an assistant_. I mean it. You can't run a company without help, especially now with a baby on the way. Ask Dad if he can come over on weekends to help with Albus, he's good at training dogs. Get cashmere pillows for the living room, that's what Nox likes. She won't fuck with those. Once you've done _all_ of that, relax. Then talk to Jasper." I raise my voice a little, seeing that she's opening her mouth to talk, "He'll tell you what's wrong, trust me. But you have to calm down and breathe first. He doesn't want to add to your stress. You put a lot on your shoulders, Alice. You have to learn to delegate certain things to other people. You can't do everything."

She sighs heavily and leans back in her chair, "I know, I know... I'll try to be better about that, you're right."

 _Why can't I ever get Emmett to say that?_

I smile at Alice, "See? It's not so hard once you make a list. I promise you'll feel loads better once you do all that."

"Ugh, I miss you. It wouldn't have gotten this bad if you were here to slap some sense into me."

"I miss you, too, Alice. Don't worry, I'll be home soon. I think I might stop traveling as much when I get back. At the very least for long periods of time. I wanna be home with you guys, believe me. I'm just doing some important stuff right now."

"I know, I know." She rolls her eyes, "Secret, fancy notary stuff."

I snicker, "Yeah, secret fancy notary stuff."

The front door to the shop dings, signaling a customer walking in.

"I gotta go, Alice. Bye! Love you."

"Okay, love you, too! Thanks for being you and rescuing me from my psycho, micro-managing self!" She blurts out quickly before I hang up.

I giggle all the way to the front.

"Good afternoon! How can I help you, today?" I ask my new customer, closing the back door.

"Hi, yes. I'd like to get some flowers for my wife, if I may."

I jerk around at that statement and I'm met with piercing blue eyes and a head full of platinum blonde hair.

Mr. Platinum smiles kindly at me, waiting for my response.

"Oh hi, uh, yes. We do that here."

 _Stop being awkward, Bella._

After a second I straighten up and extend my hand to Mr. Platinum, smiling back.

"Marie Woods."

He grasps my hand, his hand warm and shakes it gently. "Carlisle Cullen. I work next door at Masen Accounting."

 _Cullen?_

"Oh, nice! Hi neighbor!" I laugh.

"Hello! Congrats on opening this place up. I normally go to the florist down the road but I want to see if my wife would like your arrangements better." He winks, giving me a crooked grin I've seen before only from afar. Up close its effect is definitely multiplied.

A giggle that rivals that of an elementary school girl comes out of my mouth before I can stop it.

 _Damn it, that charm must be hereditary._

"What kind of flowers are you looking to get for her?" I ask, shooing the little elementary school girl in me away.

"Surprise me." He shrugs, "I get her flowers every day, so nothing too big, she'll change them for different ones tomorrow."

I go to the cooler and look at all the flowers I have, thinking what would look nice.

"Are you a Chicago native?" He inquires, watching me grab some pink peonies.

"No, I just moved here a few weeks ago. I'm from Wyoming, small town."

"What brings you all the way over to Chicago?" He asks with a quizzical look on his face.

"I guess I just wanted a change... All I've ever known was small town. I want to see what a big city is like. Do you live around here?"

"I do, actually. I live close by. Born and raised in Chicago."

We fall silent as I add in the last of the flowers to complete the bouquet.

"So, why flowers every day?" I ask. Ever since Em and I started tailing him, I've always wondered why Mr. Platinum—well, I guess I can start calling him Carlisle—got flowers for his wife every single day.

He blushes before answering, giving me a shy smile, making it seem as though he has never been asked that question. "On our first date I got her flowers and she lit up when she saw them. I promised myself I'd get her flowers everyday just to see her smile like that... Is that cheesy?"

That damn school girl makes her appearance again, a giggling mess as she places white daises in the bouquet. "No, actually. That's very sweet... I hope I can find someone who loves me enough to do that for me every day." I say, smiling earnestly at him.

I tell myself that it's Marie talking—my fake, small town girl persona—but I know that's the first truth I've told Mr. Platinum since he walked into my shop.

"You're a very beautiful girl, Marie, I'm sure it won't be that hard." He says, flashing me that megawatt smile. _That fucking smile._

"Thank you, Mr. Cullen. Here," I hand him the flowers, "I hope your wife enjoys them."

"Call me Carlisle, please. I hope she does, too. You'll know tomorrow if I'm back here."

He pays with cash, of course. After a smile and wave, he walks out.

My back pocket vibrates and I pull it out. It's a text from Jasper.

 _Well that was anticlimactic. - J_

He must have been listening in, working through the weekend at the office.

 _What do you expect? Him to walk in here guns a blazin'? - B_

 _He's an accountant, not a gun slinger. I just mean that he's so... Normal. I'll see what I can find on a Carlisle Cullen. He's smart for not having anything in his name. - J_

 _OK, keep me posted. And stop spying on me. - B_

 _I can't, it's in my big brother blood. - J_

 _Ugh, I know. Go home, Jazz. Night. - B_

 _Night, Bells. - J_

The next day Mr. Platinum—I can't get that name out of my head now—comes back, telling me that his wife absolutely adored them. He returns every day for the rest of the week and makes small talk with me while I make his wife flower arrangements. Each day he asks me questions about my life, simple ones like where I went to college, what I studied, and what my parents think of my big move. When I tell him they died when I was young and that I have no living relatives left, he genuinely looks remorseful.

I can't believe someone this sweet could work for someone so evil like Aro Volturi. He could be just acting, but I've always been good at reading people, and I can't find any lies in his kindness.

Saturday morning I rush to the shop. I was up late moving into my new apartment that Jasper had gotten for me so I was running behind.

My place is a small loft in near the outskirts of Chicago. The style is quite different from my apartment back home, but I like the rustic feel of it. It has brick walls and dark hardwood floors. The furniture that came with the place is a little old fashioned, but adds a sense of comfort and familiarity to the apartment. It doesn't have any rooms; the kitchen, living room, and bed room all shared on the same floor with no walls. But, fortunately, it is big enough that it doesn't feel stuffy.

I open the door to the flower shop, holding a bagel in my mouth and a ceramic coffee mug in one hand.

Once settled I check the store's computer for any orders that were made the night before. I have one from an E.A.C., stating they need an anniversary bouquet by the end of the day

I scarf down my breakfast and get started on the arrangements I need done for the day.

As closing time nears, I shoot Alice a text asking what the best combination of flowers would be for an anniversary. Once I have her reply, I get started.

After I get a get a thumbs up from Alice, I choose a stationary for the message, signing it _Happy Anniversary Mom And Dad, Love You Both. - E_

I'm just finishing the card at the front desk when the front door dings.

"Be with you in just a minute! Take a look around and let me know what you like." I call to the customer without looking up.

"I think I've found it." Says a velvety voice.

 _I know that voice..._

My head snaps up and I'm met with Adonis himself standing behind the counter.

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck. Abort mission. I repeat, ABORT._

"Ah, the nameless Bitti girl. We meet again." He smirks.

I hate what that smirk does to me, but I hate myself more for thinking I could have avoided him forever. He works next door, for Christ's sake.

I clear my throat, buying myself some more time to think about what the fuck I can say to him.

"Fancy green shirt guy." I nod. _Fancy... green shirt guy? Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Bella pull yourself together._

He snorts at this, "I go by Edward to most."

"Edward Cullen?" I ask, eyeing the order slip, assuming the C stands for Cullen.

"That'd be me." He affirms, arching an eyebrow at me playfully. "How'd you know my last name?"

"I'm sure you know who comes in here every day to get flowers for his wife."

He laughs, "Yeah my dad's a hopeless romantic... You know, I still haven't gotten your name."

"I still haven't given it to you." I remark indignantly.

"If I go on a date with you, will you give it to me?" He asks, taking one of the calla lilies in between two of his fingers, casually examining it.

I narrow my eyes at him, "If _you_ go on a date with _me?_ " I repeat, my ego pushing all other emotions felt at the mention of a date out of the way.

"Yeah," he shrugs, "quid pro quo."

 _Cocky bastard._

I scoff back at him, "In your dreams, Art Boy." _At least that's a step up from fancy green shirt. Progress is progress._

"I actually think it's a fair trade. You give me your name, I give you a night you won't forget." He points the calla lily that he's holding at me with his eye brows raised.

"Is that so? _A night I won't forget._ Hmm… I don't know. You seem pretty forgetful." I shrug innocently.

"Trust me, you'll remember me." His eyes hold a subtle fierce determination behind them as he states this.

"Well, what if I give you my name? That'll make you debt free. You won't owe me a thing."

He laughs and I make a mental note to joke more often when I'm around him.

 _Wait. More often? Slow your roll, Swan. You're still on a mission, you can't_ date _your target,_ I scold myself.

"I'll still owe you. I could never live with myself if I let a nice girl like you spend a Sunday night alone. I'm indebted to be your entertainment." He laments, putting a hand on his chest dramatically.

"That's a big burden." I smirk before resting my chin on my hand, trying my best to look solemn. He doesn't grasp the double meaning behind my statement.

"I'm sure it is. But I'm willing to bare that weight on my shoulders."

I narrow my eyes at him again, "I'll think about it. That'll be $62.50." I hand him the order slip.

He takes out cash and hands it to me. As I put the money in the register he signs off on the order slip. He offers the pen back to me and I go to take it from him.

"Have you thought about it?" He grips tighter on the pen, not allowing me to take it from his hand.

He gives me one of those panty-dropping, crooked smiles of his that make my brain go fuzzy, and the words are out of my mouth before I can comprehend what I'm saying.

"Fine, I'll go."

 _What in the actual fuck did I just say?_

"Pick you up tomorrow at eight." He snatches the flowers from the counter and walks swiftly out of the door before I can change my mind.

I stare after him, wide eyed, wondering what the hell just happened.

 _You, getting yourself in deep shit. That's what happened._

My phone starts vibrating in my pocket, notifying me of an incoming call and I answer it without looking.

"Bella, what the _fuck_ was that?" Jasper growls.

 _Shit._

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Things are starting to get interesting! What do you think will happen next? Will Jasper refuse to let Bella go on a date and lead her to go behind his back, or will he eventually agree?**

 **Let me know your thoughts!**

 **Thank you to my wonderful Beta, Kenz, who actually had to beta this chapter twice because her husband deleted the document on accident the first time LOL!**

 **You guys might get the next chapter sooner than you think 0:-) Stick around! If TBK reaches 100 reviews before the usual two week update, I might just post the next chapter early ;)**


	6. The Restaurant Debacle

**A/N: Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.**

 **OMG you guys are so awesome! Y'all deserve this early update. Thanks for the 112 reviews. Each and every one of those made me smile and my heart clench. It means a lot to have people stop by and not only read, but share their thoughts as well :)**

 **So here you go! Just as promised, an early update!**

 ****My Beta, Kenz, beautifully edits my writing. I added in Emmett's POV after she had sent back the chapter all done, so any mistakes found in Em'sPOV are mine and mine alone!**

* * *

 **THE RESTAURANT DEBACLE**

 **EMMETT POV**

A warm arm wraps tighter around me, rousing me out of sleep.

I blink a few times, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness that envelops my small loft above the coffee shop.

Unconsciously, my hand starts rubbing circles on the smooth, naked back that lies next to me. I peer down at Rosalie's angel face as she sleeps peacefully.

Normally, her forehead is constantly creased with lines—either in annoyance, exasperation, or displeasure. Around me, however, those rules don't apply.

I chuckle slightly, making sure not to wake her, while I think about my sassy, gorgeous woman.

My cellphone buzzes from the night stand, pulling me from thoughts of waking Rose back up for a third round.

"Hmm..." I mumble quietly.

"Emmett?" Jasper asks.

I quickly turn the volume as low as possible before responding. "Yeah."

"Have you talked to Bella?"

"No, not since this morning..." I whisper, checking to see if Rose is still asleep. Her soft, feather light snores confirm she is. I smirk, knowing Little Em and I the cause of her being so tired.

"The Bookkeeper came into the shop today, well technically yesterday." I glance at the clock on the bedside table, seeing it's well into Sunday, I raise an eyebrow that Jasper fails to see from DC.

"Why you up so late?"

"Couldn't sleep. Not until I found out more about him. He gave his name to Bella. Well, _a_ name. I'm not sure if it's his, but it gives us a name to put to a face."

"Whatcha got?" I ask quietly. Rose lying next to me doesn't allow me to physically celebrate this break in the case.

"Carlisle Cullen is hi—"

An imaginary truck load of ice dumps on me as I hear that last name and I'm unable to hear whatever else comes out of Jasper's mouth after that.

 _Cullen?_

My eyes jump to Rosalie as I'm suddenly on high alert.

That has to be a common name, right? No way in fucking hell is _my_ Rose involved with that shit.

Suddenly the image of a couple of weeks ago floods my mind as if saying, _you already knew this asshole._

I had a feeling it was Rosalie who opened that apartment door to Mr. Platinum and his wife. Although it had been far away, her golden hair and tall physique would be hard to miss.

I wasn't certain it was her, having not seen her face, so I just brushed it off.

How the fuck could life be so god damn cruel? Are you shitting me right now?

Is the perfect woman that lies in my arms right now related to Mr. Platinum? No… Not my Rosie. Besides, it could be a fake name, right?

"Emmett! Are you still there?" Jasper's question distracts me from the ones I ask myself.

"Yeah, yeah... Sorry." I instinctively pull Rosalie closer to me, nervous about what Jasper has to say about the new discovery. "Can you say that again? It broke up..."

"I said the Bookkeeper's name is Carlisle Cullen... For some reason, I can't find shit on him. It's like he doesn't exist. No medical records, no school records.

"The only proof that he's even alive is a birth certificate that I found. I can't even find a social security number. Emmett, I looked everywhere. I called and cashed in some owed favors to some of my best contacts... Shits fucking weird, bro."

I mumble in agreeance, trying to relax at the unconfirmed information about Rosalie's involvement with Mr. Platinum's business.

"No one ever bothers to look too close cause they just seem so normal. I'm fucking creeped by what little I managed to find... Bella's been making small talk with him, so I'm hoping he can give her a few more details about his life. We'll see. So far, so good though. It's still progress.

"All we've heard from the office is mundane, boring shit. All clean. But I'm hoping they'll slip. They're good, but everyone makes mistakes. We'll be there to catch it."

"Yeah..." Is all I manage to say.

"You okay, bro?... You seem, I don't know, off? You're usually a lot more excited about shit like this." He asks in the same tone I had used on Bella when we first discovered Mr. Platinum's house, giving me a weird sense of déjà vu.

"Yeah, man. Just tired. Fucking job... Give a big thanks to Kate for me, will ya?"

Jasper barks out a laugh before ending the call.

I try and fall back asleep, but that fucking last name eats away at me.

Gently jostling Rosalie awake, I look down at her confused state as she blinks up at me.

"Liam?" She mumbles.

"Hey... What are your parents' names? I don't think you ever told me." I ask nonchalantly. As if it's not two in the morning and we hadn't just finished having amazing, sweaty, fuck-hot sex less than a few hours ago.

Her eyebrows scrunch in sleepy confusion as she looks up at me. "Huh?"

"Your parents... You were telling me about them a few days ago. What are their names?"

"Are you really asking me that right now?" She mutters, too sleepy to glare at me.

"Sorry, I can't sleep. I was just thinking about you, everything that you've told me about you and your family. Making sure I got all my facts straight, too many girlfriends to keep track of." I wag my eyebrows playfully at her, covering my nervousness expertly.

Her eyes widen a little before a slow, lazy smile stretches across her face. "Is that what I am?... Your _girlfriend_ , huh?"

My gut does this weird fucking flip thing and I mentally calculate when was the last time I ate before answering her.

"Well, I mean... If that's you want to be, it's up to you. This might be goin' at a faster pace than normal..." I try and back pedal, not wanting Rose to get uncomfortable with me and end things.

I've never really had a girlfriend since high school, but I actually like the thought of claiming Rosalie as my girl now that the idea has presented itself.

She shakes her at me, "You're right. This is a little bit faster than normal." My heart skips a beat as she says this. _Damn it, do I need to see a cardiologist or somethin'? What the hell's going on with my body today..._ "But I don't mind fast when it's you behind the wheel." She finishes, smirking at me.

My smile matches hers as I lift her on top of me. "I think you're mistaken there, babe. It's you who's shiftin' gears here." I reiterate this by gently grinding her against my growing hard on.

She laughs whole heartedly, tilting her head back in the process. I swear this woman needs a fucking spot light on her when she smiles like that. How she's an accountant and not a god damn run way model is beyond me.

She pulls off my T-shirt that she's wearing and slips my boxers down.

As she lowers herself onto me, already ready to take me all in, I forget about Mr. Platinum, Jasper, flower shops, and everything else that doesn't involve the blonde goddess that straddles me.

* * *

 **BPOV**

"What the fuck was what?" I ask indignantly.

"I mean, quite literally, what in the actual, all-inclusive fuck, do you think you're doing? Going on a _date_ with the Bookkeeper's _son_ , really?" He hisses.

The lie rolls out of me naturally, "Look, I saw an opportunity and I took it. How else am I supposed to get close to Mr. Platinum? This is a great way to do it."

"Yeah, I'm sure _fornicating with the enemy_ is something the Agency encourages. You could compromise the assignment, Bella. You're breaking protocol." Jasper counters, speaking to me as though I am a child.

"Jasper, it's one fake date." _The butterflies in my stomach seem to disagree with that_ , "How is that breaking protocol? Emmett hasn't gotten much from his cover, and I honestly don't think he will. The only way we can get what we need is by finding out where the Bookkeeper stores all his information. Emmett can't do that while working a day job and I've heard nothing but lackluster accounting bullshit from next door."

"How do you think you'll be able to get _said information_ if you're be too busy spoon feeding cheesecake into Edward Cullen's mouth?"

"I have a plan, Jasper. Calm down. I'll handle shit on my end, you handle it on yours." I bark.

"Just make sure you remember what's at stake here. I can't wait to hear what Emmett has to say about this. He might ask Dad to pull you out."

"You're _not_ telling Emmett. He won't understand what I'm trying to do. Just please, Jasper. Do you want to take these guys down or not?"

I hear him let out a deep sigh, "I do, but not at the risk of putting you in danger. You could get made if you get too close."

"I'm always at risk when I'm on the field. Please, Jazz, don't tell Em. Attempt to understand what I'm trying to do here. It is the _only_ way in." I plead.

The line is silent for what seems like an eternity, and I have to glance at the screen to make sure he didn't hang up on me.

"If I feel that you're at any risk of being made or that you're losing focus, I'm taking you off myself. Understood?" Jasper concedes, the tone of his voice telling me he isn't thrilled at this.

I sigh in relief, "Thanks, Jazz. Don't worry, this plan will work."

"I sure as hell hope it does."

I hear a click and I know he's ended the call.

As I stand alone in the middle of the shop, a small, hopeful smile forms on my face.

* * *

The next morning, I make sure to wait until I'm positive Alice is at work before I call her.

"I need your help. I have to find a suitable outfit for tonight—"

I'm suddenly bombarded with a banshee like scream blazing in my ear through the speaker.

"What's his name? What's he look like? Is he cute? Where are you going?..." I hold the phone away from my ear, not listening to the rest of the questions Alice is assaulting me with. It takes several minutes for her to quiet down and I am able to put the phone back in between my ear and shoulder.

"It's a _business_ meeting. But I'm trying to distract the client with my... _assets_."

"Uh, huh. Okay. We can call it that for now."

I roll my eyes, walking over to my closet. "Are you gonna help me out or not?"

I hear the line go dead and before I have time to wonder where she went, Alice calls me back but on video this time.

"Okay. Show me what you've got." She beams.

I flip the camera around and go over all the clothing I've brought. Most of it is comfortable clothing I use for stake outs and work.

"Damn it, Bella. How do you expect me to work with yoga pants and fleece jackets?" She complains.

"I had other things on my mind than fashion when I was packing." I mutter.

"No worry, I've got it. I'll have someone send over a few things. Where are you?"

I pause, never having been asked this question by Alice. But I also know that she's not asking to find out about my assignment.

She sees my hesitation and continues, "I'm not asking what you're _doing_ , Bella. I just want to know so I know who to call."

I contemplate this for a few long seconds, then conclude that there's no harm in telling her _where_ I am, since she does technically 'believe' I'm on a business trip. I try and make my answer as vague as possible in case anyone from the Agency finds out.

"Chicago." I reply hesitantly.

"I suppose it would be a stretch to ask for your address... No worries, I'll send you the address of where you can go pick the clothes up." She smiles, silently letting me know that it's okay and she understands.

I let out a sigh of relief, thankful for such an understanding best friend like Alice.

"Thanks, Alice. You're the best."

She giggles, "I never get tired of hearing that. It'll be ready for pick up in about an hour or two. Bye, Bells."

I laugh, "Bye, Alice."

I check my orders once I'm at the flower shop and see I only have one for the day. I finish that up and close the shop for an hour while I run into town to pick up the clothes Alice had ordered for me.

As always, my gut can already feel Alice has gone overboard as I approach the clothing boutique. I walk into the expensive looking store and I'm greeted by a tall, Amazonian looking woman.

"Hi, I'm Senna! Can I help you find anything specific today?"

I have to look up at her because she's so tall.

"Uh, I'm here to pick up some items. Alice Brandon-Swan."

"Oh, yes, of course. Follow me." She grins.

I'm mesmerized by her mile-long legs as they glide towards the back. As I silently wonder what spanx she might be wearing that lifts her ass so flawlessly—so I can buy them for myself, obviously—she catches me staring as she turns around when reach the back of the store. _Damn it, now she thinks I was checking her out._

Smirking, she walks into a room labelled 'Employees Only' while I wait in the main store area.

She returns with a clothing rack on wheels that is over flowing with dresses, skirts, blouses, and blazers. Only Alice would order an entire new wardrobe for just one night.

"It's all yours." She winks. _Yep, definitely thought I was checking her out._

I laugh nervously as I take the rack and start pushing it towards the front door.

"Oh, wait!" She calls after me, "Here! I was told to give you this."

She hands me a small envelope and I take it, "Thanks."

"Anytime." _Okay, she winked again. Nice going, Bella._

Once I stuff everything into the car, I open the envelope. It's a receipt for a cupcake bakery. I look at the address and see it's the same as the clothing boutique, but the suite numbers are different.

After I pick up the small box from the bakery, I drive back to the flower shop before I open the box.

I laugh and send Alice a text while biting into my pink frosted cupcake.

 _IT'S A GIRL!? - B_

 _Oh, cut the shit. Jazz told me already. - A_

 _Told you what? :o – B_

 _That you know. - A_

 _Ah, fuck. Don't be mad at him, it kinda slipped out. - B_

 _SO HE DID FUCKIN TELL YOU!? THAT LITTLE FUCKER – A_

 _I don't know whether to be mad at you for tricking me, or at myself for falling for that... - B_

 _He's dead. You're down to one brother now. - A_

 _Well at least I'll have a niece to fill his place :-) - B_

 _Hehe 3 BRB... plotting revenge – A_

 _Oh BTW... if it doesn't work out tonight, Senna asked me to give you her number. ;-) - A_

 _Shut it. And for the last time Alice, it's a business meeting. - B_

 _A business meeting. At night. Sureeee... - A_

 _He's a busy man, this is the only time he's available. - B_

 _I'm just gonna let you keep thinking that you're fooling me. - A_

As closing time nears, my nerves get worse. By 5:30 I'm a sweaty, stressed mess. I start pacing around the store. I talk myself out and back into the date at least a hundred times, and then a few more just for good measure.

The flower shop's phone rings and I jump at the chance to distract myself.

"Floralia. Marie Woods speaking, how many I help you?" I answer a little flustered. _Why am I out of breath?_

"I can hear you pacing you know." Jasper dead pans on the other side of the line.

"I'm cleaning." I lie.

"You're nervous." He responds curtly, not buying it.

"No, I'm cleaning."

"I've never seen you nervous about a job _or a guy_."

"Get back to work, Swan!" I hiss before slamming the phone down to hang up.

My phone buzzes from the counter.

 _Remember what we talked about. - J_

I stuff my phone in my purse, irritated at Jasper, before closing up for the night.

I take a long, cold shower when I'm back at my loft. I want to make sure my body temperature is cool enough to not start sweating any time soon.

Looking over the clothes Alice has chosen for me, I opt for a navy blue pleated dress. It's flowy, but the short length and thin halter-like straps show just enough skin.

I put on a little make up, going for a more natural look. After styling my hair into loose wavy curls, I survey myself in the mirror.

I do miss my brown hair, but I don't hate the dirty blonde color. It doesn't wash me out as much as my natural dark color does. In the back of my mind, I feel a little sad that Edward will never know what my real hair color is, but I force that thought away before I start to dwell on it.

Somehow, I make it back to Floralia. I don't remember the drive from being so completely lost in thought. I suddenly have the urge to chain smoke a few cigarettes—something I haven't done since the last round of college finals.

Before I can convince myself to run to the grocery store a few doors down the plaza, a familiar silver Tesla pulls up in front of me.

Edward steps out and I have to clench my thighs together to placate my sudden need for friction. He is wearing dark brown slacks paired with a white button up—the sleeves rolled up, of course. His hair looks a little more tamed than I've seen as of yet, but still calls to my hands that are itching to run through it.

His green eyes smolder as he gives me a once over, turning a few shades darker in the process.

"Wow." He breathes, "You look... Amazing."

"You clean up pretty well, yourself." I mumble nonchalantly while still ogling the Greek god standing in front of me.

He smirks, knowing full well the effect he has on me.

Placing his hand on the small of my back, he leads me to the passenger side of car and opens the door. _I guess his dad taught him more than just how to manage criminals' money._

"So, where are we going?" I ask, fully aware of his closeness.

"You don't get to ask any questions until you've answered mine." He smirks.

"M—"

"No! Not yet. Let's see if I can hold up my end of the bargain first. I want you to make an informed decision, after all." He gives me that damn crooked smile.

I arch an eyebrow at this, "Let's see whatcha got, Cullen."

We pull up to a massive building with dozens of wide glass windows. It looks modern, but I don't see any sign indicating what the establishment is, or even it's name.

Again, Edward opens the door for me and helps me out. This time, however, he reaches for my hand. When our hands connect, I jerk back involuntarily from the shock. It wasn't a shock so much as it was like every cell in my body that made into contact with his suddenly came alive. When I put my hand back the sensation dulls to a muted hum. I know I'm not the only one to feel that intense sensation from the sharp intake of breath that I observed from Edward.

Once in the building, I realize it is an art museum. The art displayed here is all contemporary in nature. There are abstract paintings lining the walls in the main lobby.

The receptionist at the front desk waves at Edward as we make our way further into the museum. The dreamy look on her face as she stares at Edward doesn't get past me, and I swear I even hear a whimper escape her lips. She notices me next to him and gives me a dirty look before looking back at the computer in front of her.

I keep with Edward's pace, which is faster than one that would allow us to peruse the art. We end up in a secluded hallway with no artwork on display.

At the end of the hall, I see two tall black doors, which serve to confuse me even further. Edward opens one of them and leads me into a vast, blindingly white room. It's completely empty save a few benches lining the walls. There are a handful of people in the room talking quietly amongst themselves while they sit. He leads me to an empty bench in the far corner of the room, motioning for me to sit before taking a seat beside me.

Before I have the time to ask what we're doing here, the lights suddenly go out, leaving us covered in darkness. Out of instinct, my body tenses as I become completely alert. I make to stand up but Edward reaches out and grasps my hand, instantly calming me.

Suddenly a lone spot light shines down to the middle of the room illuminating half a dozen people who weren't there before.

They're dressed in black leotards and accompanying black tights with their heads down cast. A soft pop like beat starts playing and they begin to move.

I watch in awe as they perform together, their movements so natural and more beautiful than anything I have seen.

During the fourth song, I can feel that Edward has stopped watching the dancers and has shifted his gaze to me. I make the mistake of turning to meet his eyes, becoming hyper aware that our faces are merely inches apart and that we're still holding hands.

In the almost lightless room, the color of his eyes is muted, but the darkness does nothing to hide their obvious desire. He uses his free hand to tuck a stray piece of hair behind my ear. His finger trails down my neck, leaving a line of fire in its place.

It takes every fiber of my being to fight the urge to close the few inches of space between us and crash my lips into his. He seems to have a little more restraint than I do. Edward quickly and quietly returns his eyes to the show, never removing his hand from mine.

Near the end of the performance he unconsciously starts to draw circles on the back of my hand with his thumb. I'm ashamed at how overstimulated one man's thumb causes me to be and I sure as shit hope Edward doesn't ask me about the last half of the performance. I would not be able to tell him a single thing about it.

The music fades out and the lights turn back on. The small audience stands and claps for the performers, ourselves included.

"That was so beautiful, Edward." I beam.

A peculiar look crosses his features, but he composes himself and smiles back at me tentatively.

"I'm glad you liked it. One of the performers is an old friend of mine. I come here every season when they change the show. She's amazingly talented."

At the word 'she' I perk up. I wish I had paid more attention to the faces of the performers, now. I wonder if he had any personal history with this _friend_.

Without any further elaboration, we exit the museum and get back into the Tesla. After a short drive, we arrive at an Italian restaurant downtown. Before we even walk in I am assaulted by the smell of fresh bread, basil, and oregano. It is a small, intimate place on the corner of a street.

There's a bit of a line outside the door but Edward guides me past them and straight through the door.

The inside is composed of brick, deep maroons, and dark cherry wood. We sit at a table in the far corner of the restaurant, almost hidden by a large, thick stone column. We aren't given any menus and opt for the special. The chef prepares whatever he got fresh this morning in what I am sure is the most delicious way. Edward does order the house wine before the waiter leaves us.

"I can't believe I never noticed this place. It's right down the street from the Coffee Studio." I remark, still surveying the restaurant.

"You go to the Coffee Studio?" Edward asks, making me realize I had said my thoughts out loud.

I don't miss a beat on my reply, "Oh, yeah. I love their coffee. For the first couple of weeks I was in Chicago I went there every day. Practically lived there." I laugh at my own inside joke.

"Hard to believe I missed such a gorgeous face like yours." He grins.

I blush at the compliment. _Believe me, I surely didn't miss yours._

"I usually came late at night, not your typical time for coffee."

"Where are you originally from?" He asks, abruptly changing the topic.

"Born and raised in Lovell, Wyoming. You?"

"Right here in Chicago. Been here most of my life. I love the big city, nothing beats it."

"Where did you study?" I find myself asking, not because I want to find out what I can about Mr. Platinum's son, but because I want to know more about Edward.

"I went to Dartmouth but came back right after college to work with my dad."

"Do you like the work you do?"

"I like working with numbers. It's a... complicated business."

 _Oh, I know._ "I'm sure it is. Must be difficult to keep track of all that money."

"I like a challenge." He smirks as he holds my gaze letting me know he's not talking about work anymore. "So, why the wolf?"

I give him a questioning look at his latter comment.

"The wolf, on your back." He clarifies, referring to the midsize tattoo of a female wolf surrounded by flowers that lies in between my shoulder blades.

Charlie has this large tattoo on his shoulder of an alpha male wolf that he got in his younger days. When we were all kids, my brothers and I were fascinated by it. Charlie would call us all his little pups as a joke, but after some time it stuck.

After Emmett and I graduated high school, before he left for basic, Jasper drove us downtown and we all got wolf tattoos to celebrate.

Jazz and Em have tattoos of male wolves that are slightly smaller than Charlie's. Renee _would_ have one too, but she's too scared of needles to even think about getting a small one.

Em always jokes about how I got lucky. If Charlie would have gotten a tattoo of a Swan, I might have been stuck with an ugly duckling tattoo—which I'm sure I never would have gone for.

"Oh! That... It's just to remind others that my bark _isn't_ worse than my bite." I wink with a chuckle.

Edward laughs as he shakes his head at me. "You are a piece of work."

"I really just like wolves. They're so majestic and fearless, I guess I just wanted some of that to rub off on me."

"It certainly has, believe me." I look up at him through my lashes to see Edward staring back at me intently.

The waiter returns and presents our wine, but Edward doesn't look away from my eyes as the waiter fills our glasses. I bite my lip, slightly nervous under his scrutiny. His eyes darken as I do this and he shifts slightly before asking another question.

"You have family here?"

"Uh, no. My parents passed away when I was really young. My grandmother raised me after that, but she died right after I graduated high school. That's all the family I had."

I've never felt ashamed at how good of a liar the CIA has helped me become, but at this very moment I am overwhelmed at just how easy it is for me to lie to Edward about who I really am. I avert my eyes from his—ashamed at myself—and have a sudden interest in my silverware.

He reaches out and squeezes my hand, interpreting my sudden silence as sadness.

"I'm sorry. I can't imagine a life without my family." He says, attempting to comfort me.

"Tell me about them." I murmur, wanting to shift my attention to anything but the regret I'm feeling.

I see his eyes lighten at the thought of his family. "My mother Esme, and my father Carlisle have known each other all their lives. My mom had me young—too young. She got pregnant with me when she was in high school and thought my dad would leave her.

"My dad asked her to marry him shortly after the news broke. He says he always planned on marrying her and was happy to do it much sooner than expected. You'd think that a teen pregnancy would ruin young love, but my parents made it work."

His smile shows the admiration he has for his parents' love. I can tell he grew up in a warm and kind home, not just from what he's said, but because I've seen his parents together firsthand.

"I have a younger sister," he continues, "Rosalie. She's a bit of a spitfire, but once you get to know her you realize she's harmless. She used to work with my dad and I at the office, but last year she decided it wasn't for her and now has her own private office here."

I briefly wonder what made Rosalie get out of their business when I'm distracted by the array of food that's been brought to our table.

We continue talking while enjoying our meal. Occasionally I let out a satisfied moan from how amazing the food tastes. I notice that Edward seems to falter a bit with whatever he is doing in response.

It is quite _possible_ I let out a few extra moans for my own personal enjoyment.

I can't believe how easy it is to talk to Edward. We ask each other questions about our childhood, our favorite music, food, and books. He even tells me what he would have been if it had not taken the accounting route—an archeologist, like Indiana Jones.

At this, I completely lose it. Giggling uncontrollably, I picture a little Edward digging holes in his backyard for treasure and sneaking out in the middle of the night for secret adventures.

He laughs along with me, "I think I can still recite those movies word for word. When I was a little kid I wanted to be Han Solo. Not just _like_ him, I wanted to _be_ him. But as I got a little older I realized that was unrealistic and shifted my focus to archeology.

"I think it was right around freshman year of high school that my dad broke the news to me that an archeologist's life isn't quite like that of the character Harrison Ford portrays."

I'm still laughing as the waiter leaves the check on the table. As we stand to leave I look up and see a burly brunette man entering the restaurant. I would, under normal circumstances, have stopped to admire the dazzling blonde on his arm, had that man not been my twin brother.

There's no way for me to walk out of here without crossing paths with Emmett. He and his date are standing near the front waiting for the host to come and seat them, which looks like it will take a few minutes.

"Actually, Edward. I have to use the ladies room before we go." I smile and turn around to head to the bathroom without waiting for his answer. "You can wait for me outside!" I call over my shoulder.

I rush into the bathroom and lock myself in a stall, afraid his date might come in. She doesn't know who I am, but if he introduces me to her later she may remember me and say something.

Waiting for enough time to go by to ensure that Emmett and his date are seated and his attentions will be too preoccupied to notice me, I waste away the minutes thinking about my brother being out on a date—especially on a nice one like this.

Emmett is a bit of a ladies man, but he isn't a douche or anything—my mother made sure of that. He usually tends to avoid dates. Actually, he tends to avoid anything that has the possibility of being too formal. He'll go out for drinks or coffee with a woman, but I can't remember the last time Emmett had gone on an actual _date_ —even with the women he's been exclusive with in the past. He must really like this girl.

I'm slightly annoyed at this revelation. Emmett and I tell each other everything. More often than not, Em will over share and call me instead of Jasper after having scored some hot chick. Granted, I haven't told him about my date either, but that's because he won't understand what I'm doing.

 _And what exactly is it that you're doing, Bella?_

 _Shut up, inner me._

I stop arguing with myself and figure it's safe enough to walk out now. I peek out into the restaurant and see Em and his date huddled close together in a booth on the other side of the room.

Walking out I pick up a wine menu just in case I need to covertly cover my face. I steal a glance in his direction and see they're in the middle of a deep, passionate kiss. Trying to keep my dinner down, I head towards the entrance. Even if they do stop kissing, he's so completely enthralled by her he wouldn't even notice if I sat down on the seat across from them.

I make it outside undetected and approach Edward, who's standing near the entrance.

"Ready to go?" He asks as his hand finds the small of my back.

I nod, not trusting myself to open my mouth just yet. I'm still trying to forget what I just saw in there.

Shortly after I give Edward directions to my place we fall back into conversation, this time talking about the different art museums and galleries Chicago has to offer.

"I have to show you a few of my favorite galleries downtown. I have a client who owns one, she's a phenomenal photographer. I think you'd like her work."

My stomach flutters a little at the promise of Edward taking me out again.

"Oh, right here. On the left." I point to my old apartment building.

He hits the breaks a little too hard, causing me to jerk forward a bit.

"You live... _here_? Who recommended this apartment to you?" He asks, exasperated.

I gape at him, racking my brain for an answer. "Uh… _Craigslist_?"

"This isn't the safest neighborhood. You could get mugged or assaulted this late at night." His eyes blaze as he scolds me for my choice in domicile.

I have to remember that I'm Marie Woods and not Bella Swan, or else I would have cracked up at the thought of getting mugged or assaulted. Plus, I'm sure Jasper wouldn't have put me in a place where I couldn't handle myself.

"My neighbors seem friendly." This being all I can manage with a straight face.

His nostrils flare and he parks the car quickly, then walking around to open the door for me.

"I'll walk you up." He declares.

"That's not really necessary—" I stop myself after I see the look on his face. "Okay, I guess that it couldn't hurt."

When we reach my apartment, I start to get uneasy. "This is me." I laugh nervously and knock on the door twice. I turn my back against the door and hold the door knob with my hands behind my back.

Edward stays quiet and gazes at me. Again, I feel antsy under his stare. Some part of me is paranoid he might see the truth if he looks long and hard enough.

I clear my throat and look back up at him, "Marie." I state.

"Hmm?" He blinks and refocuses his attention to what I'm saying.

"My name." I smile, "Marie Woods."

"Marie." He repeats, taking a step closer to me. "I take it you'll be remembering tonight for some time?" _Queue panty dropping smile._

"It was quite unforgettable." I say, breathlessly.

The only thing that would make this night even more unforgettable would be if he bent me over the stair railing and took me. I clench my thighs at the thought, gripping the door handle tighter to keep my hands from searching for Edward.

His eyes darken into what has become my new favorite shade of green, and his lips part slightly. The sexual tension is palpable in the small space between us.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens them again he's much more relaxed.

"I had a really good time tonight, Marie. That was certainly the best deal I have ever made." He chuckles.

I don't know if it's because he's being such gentleman, or if it was the way his laugh resonated in me down to my core, but something possesses me. Before I know it, I am reaching out and grabbing Edward's collar, pulling him towards me.

When our lips collide, the shock that I felt earlier when he grabbed my hand is back in full force. But this time it spreads all throughout my body. He is startled, but only for a second. After that there is no hesitation from his lips.

He grabs my hips as my fingers dive into his hair. I take what he gives me, opening my mouth invitingly. He bites my bottom lip, the sensation eliciting a moan, causing him to push me up against the door. I can feel his arousal hard against my abdomen and I raise one of my legs to allow him better access.

For all I know, the sun could have risen and set again during our kiss. My attention was solely fixated on the godly specimen whose lips were deliciously intertwined with mine.

After what seems like hours, we break apart to catch our breath. Edward rests his forehead against mine, grinning lazily at me.

 _That was definitely the cherry on top of the night._

He chuckles, "That it was."

I become vividly aware that I voiced my thoughts out loud, and blush in response. _Damn it, Bella._

"When can I see you again?" He asks once his breathing returns to normal.

Again, because I'm still in a compromising position with Edward—hands still around his neck and leg still comfortably hitched on his hip—my body answers before my mind has the chance to catch up to it.

"Tomorrow." I whisper.

He gives me my favorite crooked smile and gently disentangles himself from me.

"How about lunch?" Edward inquires, raising a brow in the process.

"Yeah, sure. I don't think I have anything that needs to be done before noon."

He leans in and gives me a sweet, soft kiss goodbye.

Once my dead bolt clicks, I can hear Edward leaving. His footsteps echo in the empty hallway, and with their fading and I am brought closer to reality.

I lean against the door much like I did a few minutes ago, but this time Edward-less, still fuzzy from the heady kiss we shared.

My euphoria comes crashing down when I hear my phone buzzing in my purse. It's Jasper.

 _Tell me everything you found out about him. I still can't find jack shit on any of the Cullen's, just birth certificates. It's like they're born and disappear into thin air... No school records, no medical records, zip. I need all the info I can get. Thnx – J_

 _I'll give you a call tomorrow morning when you're at the office. - B_

And just like that, Bella Swan is back, and Marie Woods is benched until next time.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **We'll see what tomorrow's lunch brings, as well as Jasper's thoughts on all this new info about the Cullens! :)**

 **What do you think will happen? Let met know!**

 **The next update might be in 2 weeks, it might be in 3; I'm gonna be a bit busy working on some other things. Just all depends on how fast I can get everything edited :) In the mean time, drop some love in the review section!**

 **REC TIME**

 **Here are a couple stories I'm reading right now!...**

 **Pinky Promises by CiaraShayee -** Seriously, drop everything you're doing and read this. Has me chompin' at the bits and she is so so talented!

 **Rescue Ink by gabby1017 -** Tattoos and Rescue pups... Need I say more _?_ For some reason I'm like super attracted to this Carlisle more than I have been in other stories... Somethin' about the tattoos!

 **Forged By Fire by Sunshine1220 -** I started reading this cause I absolutely love walking dead, and I enjoy post-apocalyptic stories. This one though, Sunshine does an amazing job at creating her own world. Tension is just beginning to build, so you best get on this story...

 **Until we taste the same by LillianBroderick -** Amazing Mobward story. Wickedly good!


	7. The Painting Debacle

**A/N:**

 **Hello, hello! Yes, I'm back. This update took a little longer than expected, my apologies! I will make it up to you :-) I present you with... a lemon!**

 **As always, a big lovely thank you to my amazing best friend and beta who juggles work, a husband, and a baby along with editing!**

* * *

 **THE PAINTING DEBACLE**

The next morning, I spent extra time on my appearance before opening the flower shop. I chose my best jeans and am even wearing a little make up.

Once I finish checking the orders, I pick up the phone to call Emmett. Maybe today is the day he will finally tell about his date.

"Morning Em!" I say a little too enthusiastically when Em answers.

"Hey Jared." He responds groggily.

Confused, I pull the phone from my ear, making sure I've dialed the right number. Emmett's name glares back at me on the screen.

"What? Em, it's Bell—"

"Yeah, I'm available to work tomorrow evening... Yep, got that order done. Okay, I'll catch ya later, Jared." He hangs up in a rushed but cheer tone.

I sit there staring at my phone, listening to the dial tone, completely bewildered.

Thirty minutes later, Em's name blinks across my phone screen.

"Hello. Not Jared." I answer, audibly annoyed.

"Hey, sorry Bells. I was with a coworker." He pants.

"Were you watching Cops?" I ask through my morning bagel.

"Huh?"

I roll my eyes at Em, clearly having missed my joke. "You're out of breath..."

"Oh, I was just lugging some stuff up the stairs."

"Mmhmm... Find out anything new?"

"No." He groans. "This is the worst job ever... I think Kate did this to me on purpose."

"Why would she do it on purpose?"

"I may have… Implied I was interested in going on a date before we left..."

I smack my hand against my forehead, "Jesus Em, you fuckin' idiot. Why would you ask our _boss_ on a date?"

"Well I regret it now, asshole! I just can't think straight when bets are placed. You can't be that surprised, you know this."

I roll my eyes, "Yeah, I know. So does Jasper."

"You think if I apologize, she'll forgive me and we can move on?" I can practically hear his wince and desperation through the phone.

"I think the best approach with a woman like Kate is to avoid any and all mention of the fucked up, inappropriate past. Just wait until she gets over it." I say, unable to come up with any better solution.

"I hope she gets over it fast. I'm getting tired of waking up at 4:00 a.m. every day just to fucking serve Mr. Platinum and his son coffee. So far I've only gotten 'you have a good day, too man' out of his son. I'm sure the Agency will love the details I've been giving them about his favorite button-down he wears every Thursday."

I smile to myself, being very familiar with that one, too.

"So what have you been doing in your spare time?" I ask nonchalantly, taking advantage of the topic of discussion.

"Oh, you know, just uh… working out and making coffee, I guess. I go over some recordings of the accounting office, but they bore me to death with their numbers talk. I just leave most of it to Jazz." He replies in the same nonchalant tone.

I reel out the bait, "I'm surprised. You haven't called me about scoring some 'hot piece of ass' yet."

"My fake job and my real job have kept me pretty busy lately." He responds bluntly.

 _Wow... I set that one right up for him._ "Yeah, same here."

"I gotta go, Bells. Let me know if you get any good info."

"Okay. Bye, Em." We hang up, and I can't stop the overwhelming sense of confusion that comes over me.

It's not that I love hearing about each and every sexual conquest of my brother's, because I surely don't. It is more so that he does not want to boast about this particular one that throws me off.

I shrug this off as I dial Jasper's number, readying myself for the Spanish inquisition.

"I just got into the office. What'd you find out?" Jazz dives in, work mode already in full effect.

I give him the essentials, letting him know where Edward went to college and that Rosalie Cullen used to work for the family business but quit early last year. I leave out details like Edward's favorite type of music and his Indiana Jones adventures as a kid.

"Hmm.. I'll check Dartmouth records for a Cullen. I wonder what made his sister quit?"

I never really thought about asking that, but after a second I conclude that Edward would have never given me a straight answer. It was hard to talk about him without thinking about last night, and subsequently how he made my whole body feel as though it would burst into flames.

"Yeah, me too. You think she just couldn't stomach it anymore?" I ask, dragging myself out of the mental fantasies that are becoming all too real in the moment.

"I don't think so. She's still in contact with them. If she couldn't stomach it, chances are she would have cut ties with them completely, knowing what they do. What's her name?"

I think back to Edward telling me about his family. "I think he said it was Rosalind or something." I mentally berate myself, forgetting details is something I don't do. Given that I was highly distracted by Adonis himself, though, I let this slide. "He only said it once."

"Rosalie?" Jasper asks, too focused on her name to notice my short-term memory.

"Yeah, that was it. Why?"

"The son's apartment is listed under her name, she rents it. Took me a bit to track down the landlord's files on the place since she's fucking ancient and doesn't use any technology. Rent is paid in cash. I did some searching and she rents another apartment near the downtown area under the same name. Also in cash. I figured she was a relative by the last name Cullen, but wasn't sure how close."

"I wonder why he doesn't just rent under his name." I muse out loud.

"Could be another precaution, who knows? She might list it under herself because she's not directly involved with the business anymore?"

"Hmm.. Maybe." I agree. It seems every time we get a new piece of the puzzle, the picture up and changes.

I look up to see Mr. Chamberlin, a local elderly man, shuffling out of his car in the parking lot. I glance at the bouquet I have ready for him. He's a regular who comes in every Wednesday and Sunday to pick up a small arrangement for his late wife's grave.

"I gotta go, Jazz. Customer walking in. I'll catch you later."

"Alright, I'll check in with Dartmouth and text you. Really good work, I'm starting to think this was a good idea on your part... Oh, and Bella?"

"Hmm?"

"Those security camera's in your apartment building do in fact work _very_ well." _Click_.

I let out a surprised gasp as my entire body freezes up, nearly dropping the arrangement. The front door dings, alerting me of my customer's entrance. I shove all my panic away as I attend to the short elderly man.

Once Mr. Chamberlin is gone, wave after wave of mortification washes over me. Then paranoia hits… What will happen to me when Jasper gives that surveillance footage to Kate—or worse, Charlie?

I eye the clock on the wall accusingly as it ticks away the last seconds of freedom I have. I expect any minute now a team of agents will swarm the place and take me in. Emmett behind them, his arms crossed and disdain all over his face as the agents drag me away.

Maybe I could go rogue. I have enough cash stored back at the apartment and a shoe box full of fake passports and ID's… The CIA made sure to make me an expert in disappearing. I could make a new life for myself, but something low-key. Like a waitress or maid, maybe even a cat sitter.

Shit... I'd have to somehow sneak back to DC to get Nox. I'm sure I can come back for her after the search dies down. I could slip into Alice's living room window late at night and swipe Nox up, along with a cashmere pillow. We'd live out of the stolen car I picked up somewhere in Ohio for a few weeks. We'd probably have to switch cars every month after she's torn apart nearly all the seats, but we would make due.

I think of all the places we could go, all the trouble we'd run into and what would happen to Edward after I disappear.

After what seems like months of torture, but what appears to be only an hour, I get a text:

 _As long as you keep doing your job well and stay safe, I see no reason to give Kate any extra details. Just remember that you're not Marie Woods, you're Bella Swan. Some people in the agency have a hard time differentiating between their two lives after some time in the field. – J_

 _Yeah, Jazz... I've never had a problem. Trust me, I have no real interest in this guy, you should know by now. – B_

 _Good. But I still worry. I don't like you being in harm's way. - J_

 _I know. I can take care of myself, though. Plus, I have Em here. But thanks. For trusting me. – B_

 _Always. Just don't let it be a repeat of Barcelona... - J_

I let out a loud groan as my brother yet again reminds me of my very first assignment that I had almost fucked up.

I was still an analyst, and well into my second year with the Agency.

It was my first solo assignment and I was all too excited to take it on. I had been sent to Spain to link up with their intelligence agency to exchange some information and get our agents on the same page.

It was far from a high-profile mission, but it was something that was on the radar for both countries. All I had to do was bring over some information, sit in on a meeting, and spend a couple of weeks gathering the information the Spaniards had while cross referencing it with our own.

Simple. Hard to fuck that up, right?

Prior to that, my senior year of high school, Alice and I had taken a trip to Barcelona for Spring Break.

It was a magical week that was spent mostly inebriated as we stumbled along the streets of Spain, sightseeing and partying.

On my second night there I met a tall, dark, and handsome Spaniard named Matias. I never asked how old he was, but I imagine he was just a little older than I was.

Oh, he was _gorgeous_. Dark hair, bright hazel eyes—built like a fucking lumberjack. It didn't take much for him to seduce me and claim my virginity. Nicholas Sparks could have written about us after that blissful, heated night.

Only when I woke the next morning did reality come crashing down around us. I realized that while he was passionate in bed and we were very much compatible physically, emotionally we just didn't clique. He spoke _very_ little English and we had absolutely nothing in common.

I had no plans to move to Spain and become his bare footed, home maker of a wife, and he had no desire to move to America to be with me. So, we spent the week exploring his hometown during the day and having amazingly hot sex every night. I was eager to explore my new found sexual desires, and he reveled in bringing a quiet, shy virgin out of her shell.

I owe much, if not all, of my self-confidence to Matias. He was a fantastic teacher in all things sex and confidence, and I was nothing less than a most diligent student. Up until then, I had spent my teenage years locked inside walls created of low self-esteem and excruciating shyness.

When we could pry our lips apart from each other, Matias spent every moment showing me how to be comfortable in my own skin in his broken English—sometimes he would show me nonverbally.

Every day I could feel myself growing more and more confident with my body and myself in general. Even Alice took notice. She would smirk every time I'd chose to wear something completely out of the norm that showed skin or complimented my curves.

Neither Matias nor I batted an eye when it was my time to leave. We didn't even lie to ourselves and exchange last names or numbers. We just smiled at the memories that had been created and shared one last passionate kiss.

He was the last person I expected to see when I checked into a slightly run down motel on the outskirts of Madrid, the night before my meeting with the Spanish Intelligence Agency.

Turns out he had built an empire of lavish resorts and hotels all around Spain and had become a very wealthy man. He had just acquired the small, nondescript hotel I had been booked at and was planning on turning it into his next gold mine.

We picked up right where we left off that night—even making up for lost time an extra time or two. I had gotten so caught up with him that I had overslept due to being up all night.

I was an hour and a half late to meet with some very important people—who were pretty irate when I had arrived to the meeting and almost cancelled altogether.

Emmett and Jasper still haven't let me live that down since, and neither has Alice, who was given the abridged version of my blunder.

Charlie still believes I lost my phone and arrived at the wrong hotel—completely lost and confused by the jet lag. Kate overlooked my slight mishap after I had completed the task successfully _and_ two weeks before the deadline.

I look back at my phone, my sleepless nights in Spain slowly fading back to the recesses of my mind.

 _Whatever... Hey, did Em by any chance say anything about anyone he's seeing? – B_

 _No, thank god. You're lucky he goes easy on you and leaves out the details. I have to sit through it all. Why? – J_

 _Hmm... no reason. Just thought that with all his new found 'free time' he'd find a body to occupy said time – B_

 _Soon enough. It's Em, I'm sure it won't take that long. – J_

I breathe a sigh of relief.

I'm glad that I'm very good at my job and have never had any complications in the past—excluding Matias—which makes Jaspers ability to trust me that much easier.

I would be devastated if I were to be taken off my first high profile case after the years of hard work I put in to get it. Jasper is very well aware of this, but I think his being my older brother makes him much more lenient.

Edward walks in after I'm finished with an arrangement for a birthday party center piece. My body reacts with a mind of its own and suddenly I'm all flush, goosebumps, and smiles—a pattern that is beginning to become all too normal around Edward.

He doesn't say hello. Instead, he walks up to me with those vivid green eyes of his staring directly into mine, grabs me by the waist, and pulls me towards him. He gives me such a searing kiss that I have trouble keeping my eyes from rolling back behind my lids.

"Sorry," he breathes once we part, smiling shyly. "I hope that's okay. I just haven't stopped thinking about kissing you since last night."

"Mmm, s'okay" I barely make out, my head still swimming.

He chuckles and let's go of me, holding up a large brown paper bag. "I hope you don't mind, I brought lunch. We can eat it here, if that's alright?"

I nod my head, motioning towards the small table in the shop used for sit downs with clients. I clear off the sample books while he takes everything out of the bag.

"What'd you bring?" I ask as I set the books on the counter.

"I made some lasagna this morning before I left for work, thought you might like to try it."

"You cook?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"When I have the time. It's relaxing. My mom is the better cook, but she's taught me pretty well." He smirks.

He hands a plate with a piece already on it for me and I dive right in, starving from only having eaten a bagel this morning.

I let out a moan as I chew my first bite, "Oh my god, Edward. This is so good."

I can't say I don't enjoy the way his eyes flutter and focus on my lips as they close around my fork and chew.

"Don't think I'm not on to you." He mutters.

I blink innocently and smile.

"Why Floralia?" He asks, eyeing the front door's sign and logo. Probably trying to redirect his attention from my moans.

"It was kind of a last-minute name… I didn't know I'd be getting into the flower business and you already know how I feel about mythology." I wink.

"What business did you think you'd be getting into here?"

 _Well if I have to be specific,_ your _business,_ I joke to myself.

"I don't know. I came from managing a restaurant so I thought I'd be doing something similar to that. I guess I just realized a change of scenery wasn't the only thing I needed."

"My dad is pretty happy about your choice in business." He laughs.

"I bet he is... Why Masen Accounting?" I inquire, casually cutting myself another piece of lasagna while asking him the question my brother's and I have been running around trying to answer ourselves.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, your family name is Cullen. Why Masen?"

"Oh, that. Masen was my grandmother's maiden name, before she married into the Cullen family. Her family actually created Masen Accounting."

I wonder silently how that works. How the business is passed down from generation to generation, how everyone just has to accept this job and the way things are. What happens if the son or daughter refuses?

I think about Edward handing off the business to his future child and how he would feel about it.

The thought unsettles me, but before I have time to think about why, Edward distracts me.

"Damn, you can eat." He raises his eyebrows as I am plating a third piece.

I blush and mumble an apology.

He laughs and reaches out to squeeze my hand in assurance, "No, I like it."

"Oh, well then." I jokingly plate a fourth piece onto my plate, causing him to tip his head back in laughter.

I might have been joking, but this lasagna is fucking amazing—and so is Edward's laugh. I scarf down the fourth piece like it's my first.

After that, Edward brings in homemade food every day for the rest of the week. We sit and talk, enjoying his food. Every day, Edward modestly eats, and spends the rest of the time admiring me as my healthy appetite causes me to consume multiple helpings. It's only been a few days, but I'm already getting used to this routine—and I admit, am slightly addicted.

* * *

"So, what are you doing tomorrow?" Edward asks over his bowl of garlic shrimp alfredo.

We've decided to sit outside at the back of the building since it's such a nice Friday afternoon. The wooden table and benches, along with the nice fall breeze, is a nice change from the inside of overly cool the flower shop. It also eases my mind a little that Jasper's prying ears aren't listening in to our conversation.

"Nothing that I know of. I open up the shop for a few hours then I'm free after that." I confirm.

"You're not free tomorrow. You've got a date with me." Edward grins.

"Is that so? Well I'll just have to cancel my other date then." I pretend to be distraught about this, but end up in a fit of giggles after seeing Edward's glare.

"Wear something that you don't mind getting dirty."

I simultaneously drop my fork back into my bowl and clench my thighs at the word _dirty_.

 _Easy, Bella. It's just a word. Put yourself back together, woman._

I clear my throat and look up to find him smiling at me mischievously.

"Where are you taking me?" I ask, wanting to forget about my blunder as quickly as possible.

"My place. But what we're going to do involves some _dirty_ work." He finishes with a playful wink, knowing exactly what he's doing.

For the next day and a half, I have _dirty_ permanently stuck in my head. I hear Edward's voice repeating it over and over again. Fuck, I even dream about it. Him whispering it to me as he hovers over me, or grunting it as he bends me over the flower shop counter, giving me a good spanking for making him wait so long.

This is what happens when you forget to have sex for so long because you're too focused on your job— _Actually, this is what happens when you get involved with the hottest criminal to have ever graced this earth. Good luck trying to keep those eager, agent legs of yours closed._

I'm starting to get annoyed with my subconscious.

I elect comfortable black leggings and an old Flaming Lips T-Shirt I stole from Jasper when he saw them in concert and didn't take me. I was too young and apparently not cool enough, so the shirt was my retaliation of sorts. I'm tying the laces of my black Nike's when I hear a tentative knock at the door.

Unable to keep the shit eating grin off my face, I open the door. My smile drops as I'm met with an empty hallway. I look down and see it was just the UPS guy dropping off a small box for me.

The package is addressed to Marie Woods, from a Sully McGully. I snicker at the name.

Sully used to be Emmett's imaginary friend when we were four. For years he was adamant about having a spot at the dinner table reserved specifically for Sully, even going so far as to make him a plate. He requested it be left for when Sully was 'comfortable' enough to show himself and eat it, only he never did. It was actually Emmett himself who would sneak down late at night and eat the food.

Jasper and I never let a chance pass us up to use the name and taunt Emmett.

I'm just about to close the door when a slightly breathless Edward holds it open. Of course, my shit eating grin returns as he pulls me in for a quick kiss. I tuck the package underneath my arm as I let him in.

"I'll just be a minute, let me put this up." I call back to him as I walk over to the bookshelf near my bed.

I open the package, making sure my body hides it from view. Inside are a few electronic bugs and a note.

 _For your date._

I sigh, my cheery mood dampened by reality.

Slipping the bugs into my zip up pocket on my pants, I try to put on the same smile I had a few minutes ago. Luckily, Edward buys it, not noticing my slight change in demeanor as we drive to his place.

As we get near, I start to remember taking this route before. When we pull up to the gated community of townhomes, I realize that this was where Mr. Platinum had come with his wife on the night I had placed the tracking device on his car.

Some part of my brain makes my body tense slightly, paranoid that somehow Edward can sense I've been here before. I shake the feeling off quickly as he opens up the door for me.

Once inside, I take a moment to appreciate his tastefully decorated home that would make Alice proud.

He has floor to ceiling windows, are much like my apartment back home, but these put mine to shame—covering an entire side of the living room, overlooking some backwoods and a small pond.

He has the place furnished with modern, white and black furniture. Splashes of maroon are scattered around house in the form of carpets, vases, or picture frames. Everything looks pristine and organized, so much so that I'm scared to touch anything.

"I have a bottle of wine chilling in the kitchen. I'll go grab it." Edward murmurs, walking over to the open kitchen across the floor.

I circle around in my spot—not wanting to risk any dirt from my shoes leaving traces on the nice carpet—as I take a better look around.

My eyes settle on something across the living room and I feel the blood drain from my face.

 _No... It can't be._

My legs carry me over to the painting in the living room of their own volition. There are other pieces of art hanging around the apartment, but the beauty of this one dwarfs its neighbors completely. It is like placing a giant, princess cut diamond amidst a pile of rusted, metallic thumbtacks.

I study the oil painting closely as if seeing it for the first time—but I _know_ this painting. I should, after all. I spent a whole semester studying it and wrote a fucking paper on it. I remember being stationed in London during one of my first missions as a field agent and taking a day to make a trip up to the National Gallery to see this painting.

My mouth pops open as I stare at Bacchus who is looking at Ariadne, falling in love with her immediately at first sight.

These strokes on the portrait are too real, too even and perfectly placed.

 _This is no print._

I slowly lift my hand and touch the very corner of the painting with my pinky. The air in my lungs rushes out of me as my skin makes contact with the oil paint.

I feel Edward's warmth next to me as my mind tries to fix itself from the breakdown it's having.

"Please tell me this is not the original." I breathe.

"It's not the original." I hear the mirth in his voice as he murmurs this behind me.

I slowly turn my head towards him, seeing his eyes bright with mischief.

"Holy shit, Edward. Holy shit. _Holy shit_!" I try to keep the panic out of my voice but fail miserably.

"It's not what you think." He cautions, eyes now concerned as he holds up his hands that are occupied by two filled wine glasses.

"Oh, great. Phew!" I breathe out, sarcastically wipe my eyebrow with the back of my hand. "For a second there I thought you had stolen an _original_ Titian from the _National Gallery in London_. HA!" I slap my hand across my thigh for good measure. "Had me going there, Edward. Good one."

"It _is_ an original. But I didn't steal it. It was a gift."

"A gift?" I repeat. I think I feel my eye twitch, but I'm not completely sure since the turmoil in my stomach is rapidly becoming uncomfortable.

"From a client. A very wealthy client who acquired the painting in an auction."

"Last time I checked, they still have this listed as an original at the National Gallery!" I shriek.

I plop down on the couch, knees giving out on me.

My mind races as I think to what will become of the painting once it's seized by the CIA—which it will inevitably be. It'll sit in a dark, stuffy evidence holding room somewhere in Langley, for the rest of time. Probably shoved between stale cocaine and obsolete computers no doubt. A fucking travesty. I groan at the thought.

"Hey..." I hear Edward put the wine glasses down and he appears in front of me, kneeling as he holds my chin in between his fingers. "I can return it, if that makes you feel any better."

"No!" I burst. "Are you kidding? UPS would destroy that thing in a heartbeat with those man-handlers of theirs! It wouldn't survive a day in shipping! God forbid it gets lost in transit..."

A small smile threatens to form on the side of his lip as Edward struggles to remain serious. "Right. Shipping. Didn't think about that."

I narrow my eyes at him accusingly. "Must have been one happy client."

"He was. Passed away a few years ago... Left this to me in his will."

"Oh, how sweet." I squeak.

"Do you want to see why I brought you here?" He asks, trying to shift my attention away from the stolen painting.

 _Auction, my ass._

"Yeah, sure."

He reaches out for my hand and helps me up, keeping a hold of my hand as he leads me into another room.

I peer inside before following him in, afraid of running into yet another stolen painting.

The room is completely bare except for two easels in the middle, facing away from each other while two chairs face them. The floor is covered with newspaper, which is illuminated by the moonlight shining through the large window. Edward flips the light on, allowing me to see the room more clearly.

He eyes me timidly as I take a minute to piece together what we're doing.

"If you don't want to, it's totally fine. I ordered us some food, we could always go out to eat or watch a movie—"

"No, this is perfect." I save him from his nervous rant, smiling widely.

He motions for us to sit down before retreating to get our forgotten wine.

The bugs in my pocket weigh about a thousand pounds as I wait for Edward's return. _How the fuck am I going to get away long enough to plant these?_

He comes back in the room handing me my glass before sitting in front of me. The easels are a little off to the side, giving me a view of Edward and the blank canvas. I just now notice an arrangement of acrylics and watercolors resting on the cross member of the easel.

"What are we painting?" I ask, running my fingers over the tiny tubes of paint.

"Each other."

My eyes snap to his, "You paint?"

"Occasionally. I'm not very good, but it's a favorite pass time of mine." He says a little too casually.

I get the feeling that he's being humble right now.

The classes I took back in college didn't make me an expert by any means, but I know my way around a canvas.

"We'll just have to see about that, won't we?" I smirk.

I pick up one of the paintbrushes in a jar, arching my eyebrow in question towards Edward, wordlessly asking if we can begin. He picks his own paint brush up in answer.

We fall into a comfortable silence after that, focusing on our work, occasionally glancing at one another.

After half an hour, Edward unexpectedly stands and kneels in front of me. His eyes lock onto mine as he raises his hand, reaching behind me. I feel a gentle tug on my high ponytail as he removes my hairband.

"Sorry. I like this better." He admits quietly as my hair cascades down.

"I do, too." I murmur, referring to something entirely different than my hair.

He closes the distance between us slowly and meets my lips. I raise my hand, but before I can place it on his face he pulls away from me and quietly goes back to work as if nothing has happened.

A low growl comes out of me and he acknowledges it with a small smirk.

I return to my canvas, devising a plan for revenge.

I can't decide whether alcohol and painting are a good mix, or a bad one. I'm about three glasses in on an empty stomach and feeling pretty good. My brush strokes are getting progressively sloppy at best, but I use it to my advantage with the watercolors. I'm glad I had sketched with a pencil beforehand, making it easier on Merlot and I.

We've been painting for nearly an hour when I hear the doorbell ring. Edward excuses himself to go pay for the food and I wait until he's at the door to exact my revenge scheme.

Sure, I could have easily gone with the plan I had conceived earlier, but that was... now four glasses ago. The Merlot in me has a better idea— _a bolder one_.

I snicker as I clumsily stumble over my pants, tossing them into the corner of the room. I hear Edward's footsteps approaching and quickly unclasp my bra, putting my hair up in a bun by using a clean paintbrush to hold it in place.

I pick up the brush I had been using and continue on painting Edward's nose.

"Marie? Did you want to work and eat, or we can—"

I hear several boxes fall to the ground and turn my head, thankful for Merlot, who readily aids me in keeping an innocent look on my face.

"I think I want to work a little more before I eat, if that's okay." I suggest.

Ignoring a gaping Edward, I return to my canvas as if I'm not completely naked.

 _I deserve an Oscar for this, I really do._

After several minutes, Edward appears in my peripheral view. I glance at him, noting the angle of his jaw before trying to apply it to my painting. My lips twitch as I try and keep my cool. He's still obviously gawking.

Casually resting my elbow behind me on the back of the chair—making sure I push my chest out just enough—and place the end of the brush in between my teeth, faking deep thought as I examine my own portrait.

I hear a soft, strained groan come from Edward that almost makes me lose my shit, so I concentrate on mixing just the right amount of red and brown for his hair.

He shakily picks up his forgotten brush and brings it up to his portrait.

If we could see the sexual tension, it would be in thick red smoke form, circling around us—almost suffocating us completely.

Keeping my legs crossed, I relax back into painting like I had earlier—sans clothes this time.

Edward is ever the gentleman, only glancing down every once in a while, mostly for art purposes I presume. But as time drags on, I can see him struggle. His brush will cease dancing across the canvas as he stops to stare, or if I take a deep breath another soft groan escapes him.

After another hour, I start to feel like Merlot and I didn't think this through so well. The wooden seat has become warm from my skin, but with no clothes on it leaves me bare against it. It wasn't a problem before, but what would have been soaked up by my underwear now lies in a tiny puddle which I'm sitting in. It's both slightly uncomfortable and highly arousing, distracting me from the rather large bulge hiding underneath Edward's pants.

I add the finishing touches to my portrait of him and lean back to examine my work. Once I'm happy with the results, I put my paintbrush back into the water filled jar and uncross my legs, opening them slightly.

I'm rewarded with Edward's sharp intake of breath and I can no longer hold back my smirk.

"All done." I announce.

"I just… Need… A few more minutes." He strains.

I tilt my head and watch as he brings the brush from paint to canvas and back to paint. He looks so at ease, but I know better. The small bead of sweat travelling down the side of his head and his prominent hard on give him away.

He clears his throat suddenly and puts the brush down, quietly turning his easel to face me.

A small gasp leaves me as I see the painting for the first time.

While I'm pretty confident with myself and my body, I've looked at myself as anything but extraordinary. But the way Edward has painted me makes me feel like the most beautiful woman, rivaling even Aphrodite. His choice of medium was watercolor as well, but his skill reduces my work to the equivalent of a five-year-old's finger painting.

I stare at myself, at my brown eyes that he has captured so effortlessly and the way they have a shine I never knew was there. My blonde hair falls seamlessly around my face and shoulders, hiding one of my breasts. The other is exposed, my nipple in the picture the exact same shade as the real one—a shade or two lighter than my soft, pink lips.

"Edward…" Is all I manage to say, at an utter loss for words.

I'd like to say what happens next is controlled by the Merlot, but it's not. I'm abruptly overcome with the primal need to show Edward how I feel—to thank him for creating such a masterful piece of stunning art centered around me.

I launch myself at him, climbing into his lap and wrapping my legs around the back of the chair. It's almost as if he was waiting for this moment since he walked back in, because he doesn't hesitate in the slightest. His hands firmly grasp my waist as he pulls me towards him, leaving no room between my skin and his shirt.

My hands eagerly find his hair, almost aching from missing the feeling. I whimper softly as his lips capture mine. We don't waste any time with chaste kisses, letting our tongues dance with each other passionately. I grind hard against him, groaning from the contact and the feel of him underneath me.

I feel his hand timidly inching up and in my desperation for them to reach their destination, I roughly reach down and place his hand on my left breast, squeezing it, silently letting him know where I want him.

He releases my lips and dips his head down, closing his mouth around my right nipple and biting gently.

"Fuck." I moan, instantaneously pulling at his hair and pushing him closer to me.

Paying equal attention to both, he alternates between the two every so often until I'm circling my hips against him, my center aching for more contact.

He returns to my lips and stands, holding me to him as he walks out of the room. He only breaks apart when we reach the living room so he can see where he's going, but I use this time to attack his neck, biting and licking as much skin as I can find.

We fall onto his bed and he sits up, sliding to the edge. Picking up one my legs, he places a soft kiss on my ankle and works his way up my leg, trailing his lips along it. My eyes almost cross when he reaches the very inside of my thigh—a thigh that has not seen a man's face this close to it in ages. He repeats this process with my other leg and by now I'm putting mouth breathing Tyler to shame.

I feel his breath on me, causing me to arch my back in anticipation _. I need this_. He must know it, too, because he saves me from waiting any longer. Immediately, my fingers find their way back into his hair as his tongue performs some form of sorcery on me.

"Woooow…" I moan, "You're _really_ good at this."

He chuckles at my comment and it vibrates so wonderfully against me.

 _Stop talking, Merlot. Or keep talking… I'm not really sure yet._

The tightening in my abdomen comes so quickly and without warning that I clench my thighs against his head and gasp.

It only takes seconds after that for me to come apart, thrashing wildly as I ride out my orgasm.

I try to catch my breath, closing my eyes and willing my lungs to cooperate with me as I hear a crinkle of a wrapper from a few feet away.

I open my eyes to find Edward crawling back up my body, his eyes intense as he positions himself in front of me. He waits while I gather the rest of my bearings and I lift a hand to his face to mutely tell him I'm ready.

Then suddenly he's inside me and it's the most glorious feeling.

I long, drawn out moan escapes my lips as his length fills me completely and his girth stretches walls that haven't been breached in so long.

His first few thrusts are slow and teasing, but after he begins a much faster pace—hitting the perfect spot over and over again.

After a few minutes, I remember why I launched myself at him earlier.

I push at his shoulders, throwing him on to his back beside me on the bed—a little too roughly I realize a second too late, as his eyes widen at how easily I managed to shift our bodies.

Mentally checking myself to make sure I'm not too tough with Edward, I giggle breathlessly as I position myself back over him.

I take a second to admire him shirtless.

His strong arms, defined but not overly so, grip my thighs. A light coat of hair decorates his chest, which rapidly rises and falls as he pants below me. I follow the light reddish hairs that lead to what is currently my favorite part of his body, which reminds me of why I'm straddling him in the first place.

I let my body lower itself down quickly, causing Edward to hiss at this new angle. Bracing myself slightly on his chest, I begin to ride him with abandon.

"Oh, _fuuuuck_..." He moans, grabbing on to my hips to help further pick up the fast pace.

What little wine is left in me, along with the sensory overload I'm getting from this mind-blowing experience, has hindered me from any coherent speech—the result being my inability to convey verbally what I want from Edward. When I begin to feel the familiar tightening in my abdomen I straighten my back, bringing both of his hands up to my breasts.

He pinches and pulls slightly at my nipples and I snake my hand down, drawing small, fast circles at my center.

The entire time I'm candidly watching the array of emotions that cross Edward's face as I do all of this.

A growl like sound erupts from deep inside his throat as he watches me pleasure myself while riding him and I circle my fingers faster, knowing he won't be able to hold on much longer.

His fingers dig into my hips as his climax nears and I desperately run out to that ledge to jump off with him.

My head lulls back from the intensity of my orgasm as it rocks through my body. Edward lets out a guttural moan as he finds his own release.

His grip loosens on my hips and my body falls backwards onto the bed, completely spent. We lie like that for several minutes before Edward gently pulls his legs out from under me and stands.

After several minutes, he brings back a warm washcloth and cleans me off before picking me up and righting me on the bed. My head settles onto the pillow as I blissfully look up at Edward while he envelopes us in thin, smooth sheets.

I turn onto my back and his head finds refuge in the crook of my neck as his arm pulls my body up to his. I close my eyes and bring up a hand to run through his slightly damp hair.

"Stay the night." Edward whispers to me through the darkness.

"I mean, I kind of have to… You being my ride and all." I joke back softly.

I feel his chest vibrate against my side from his silent laughter.

"Goodnight, Marie."

"Night, Edward."

I would have loved to fall asleep as fast as he does, but the electronic bugs in the next room scream out at me to stay awake—to not forget who I really am, why I'm here.

When I'm sure Edward's in a deep sleep, I turn slightly in his arms to make sure. _Okay, so I might have stopped to admire his sleeping face, but you can't blame a girl._

I slip out from under his arm, reaching for his discarded shirt and put it on.

My feet pad quietly against the tile floor as I walk out of the room. I look behind me one last time to make sure Edward's asleep before retrieving the bugs from my pocket.

I place one behind a bookshelf in the living room, which is twice as difficult since I have to drag it out as quietly as possible and push it back. On my last push, I think to myself I need to start going to the gym again. I put another underneath his couch and behind his fridge, hoping its generator won't be too loud to hear anything.

If Carlisle has an office at the house, I'm sure Edward must have one here.

I walk down the hall finding a bathroom, two guest rooms, and a door with no handle. I push on the door, but it doesn't budge. Looking down where the doorknob should be, I push there.

A small screen turns on with a number dial pad.

 _Shit_. I curse myself for not bringing a code grabber.

I sigh and stare at the screen, racking my brain for a series of numbers that might be significant to Edward. But even if I thought of any, I don't know his parents' birthdays by heart or his sister's, if that were the case. Edward doesn't seem to strike me as the guy to use his mother's birthday as a passcode.

"Marie?"

I jerk away from the door and turn towards Edward, who's standing at the end of the hall rubbing his eyes sleepily.

"Where's your bathroom?" I blurt, trying to get my heart back into my rib cage.

"Come on." He motions for me to follow.

When he brings me back into his room he points to the opened bathroom door.

I kick myself for looking extremely dumb. The door is on my side of the bed and would be hard to miss for someone who is actively searching for a bathroom.

Luckily, he's too sleepy to care and crawls back into bed.

I retrieve my pants and place the last few bugs back into the pocket before joining Edward in bed.

As my back is warmed by his chest and I no longer am plagued by having to plant the bugs, the actual size of the shit I have just stepped in comes into perspective.

I, Isabella Swan—a field agent for the CIA—have managed to bed Edward Cullen—one of the most notorious criminal aids the Agency has ever come across.

* * *

There's so much more to Edward than being an accountant and I know I've only managed scratched the surface these past couple of weeks.

He's an art enthusiast, like myself, but he's even more knowledgeable than I am about it, telling me things I didn't learn in the classes I've taken. I learned he also has a love for music, having played the piano since before he could talk. Since college, he always takes a week or two out of the year to go someplace new and explore, most of the time by alone. The past few years he has taken his sister along with him. He's always mentioning little things about his family, the smile on his face brighter than the last at any mention of them. I find it incredibly adorable that he claims his sister to be his best friend.

Every day for lunch I find out just a little more about Edward. Although most of it is considered useless to Jasper, I consider all this information important and always sit silently enraptured by the memories Edward shares with me.

On a slightly chilly Friday morning, he really knocks it out of the park with a creamy tomato basil linguini. He had to work through lunch but came over later in the afternoon to make up for it. _And make up for it, he did._

"Okay, this one. This is definitely the best one yet."

He rolls his eyes playfully, "You say that every day."

"I know, but I mean it this time." I stress, pointing my fork at him.

I finish my last serving and help Edward clean up the table.

"You've got a little—" He smirks, tapping to the side of his face with a finger.

"Huh?" I go to clean my cheek but he shakes his head, reaching out and wiping off a drop of sauce from the other side of my face.

He swiftly puts his thumb in his mouth, sucking off the sauce from it slowly. I feel my eyelids get heavy and have the sudden desire to be that finger. He leans slowly in to me, those damn green eyes spellbinding as they cloud over.

The front door dings, breaking us of the trance and we jerk apart abruptly.

Mr. Platinum walks in, his eyes overflowing with amusement at what he's almost walked in on.

"Marie, you look lovely today. It's no surprise that you've got Edward rushing over here every day to see you." He grins at Edward, who to my surprise, blushes.

"I think it's mostly because I harass him until he brings me food." I laugh, going over to the cooler to get some flowers for Mrs. Platinum's arrangement.

I start putting the bouquet together absent mindedly.

"Esme really enjoys your flowers; she lights up brighter than ever when I bring them to her. I have you to thank for that, Marie." Carlisle winks.

Here comes that damn school girl, making her grand appearance as usual when around Carlisle.

I see Edward quirk an eyebrow at me from the corner of my eye but I ignore it, shoving the little girl back where she belongs.

I clear my throat before answering, "Thank you. It's my job to be good at what I do. I love it when my customers are satisfied."

He laughs, "You know, she's dying to meet you."

My head snaps up from the tulips I'm holding, "Who?"

"Esme, she's very eager to meet who makes her beautiful arrangements." He glances at Edward before continuing, "She'd also like to meet the girl that has caught her son's attention so completely."

My eyes shift back and forth between Edward and Carlisle. I'm pretty sure I look as though I'm imitating a fish for charades with my mouth opening and closing repeatedly. I gape at Edward for some help, but he stares back at me just as clueless.

"Uh, I—I… Edward?" Verbally calling for help, since body language is seeming to fail with him.

He reaches up and rubs a hand behind his neck, "We're having a family dinner tomorrow night, if you'd like to come." He says to the floor.

I look back to Carlisle, catching him silently shaking with laughter before he corrects himself.

"Um, okay. I'd love to, if you're sure." I smile meekly, adding in the last few flowers.

"We're sure. I'll see you tomorrow, Marie." With a wave and flowers in hand, Carlisle leaves the shop.

Edward's eyes are still downcast as he shifts his weight from leg to leg.

"I don't have to go if you don't want me to. I really don't want to make you feel uncomfortable." I offer, trying to keep the dejected tone out of my voice.

His eyes shoot up to meet mine, "No! It's not that. I really would like it if you came, I just don't want to make you feel uncomfortable."

I smile reassuringly, "Well, I already met your dad. What's one more person?"

Edward's eyes light up and he grins back at me, "Three. My sister is bringing her boyfriend. So that'll take some pressure off... You sure this is okay?"

I roll my eyes, "Jeez, Edward. How bad could they be?"

He just laughs and shakes his head, "You'll see when you meet my mother. She can be a little intense."

"I like intense." I murmur, stepping towards him to resume what was interrupted earlier, no longer talking about his family.

"Do you now?" He asks softly as he pulls me towards him, thumbs hooking underneath my shirt.

He leans closer to me, my face inches from his as he slowly looks over my face. I close the space between us, no longer wanting to wait.

He pulls away from me abruptly, as breathless as I am. I take my fingers out of his hair, which found their way there on their own.

"You make it incredibly hard to be the gentleman my mother taught me to be." He voices.

"Who says I want a gentleman?" I tease.

His eyes darken but I've already made my way over behind the counter. I might or might not have a wicked smirk plastered on my face.

"You are one evil woman, Miss Woods." Edward mutters.

I chuckle, "Oh, you haven't seen evil. I'm bad news, Edward. I'm warning you now."

"I should say the same to you." He smirks.

If I really were Marie Woods, I would have brushed this off as a joke—but I'm privy to much more information, so I don't.

"Tomorrow at six?" He asks, oblivious to my warring thoughts.

"Tomorrow at six." I call back as he walks out.

After I close up shop, I shoot Jazz a text to let him know that Carlisle has invited me over to his house. He asks me to call him tomorrow before the dinner and thanks me for talking to Alice.

I grin as I hop in the car, happy to hear that Alice and Jasper are back to normal. While I have threatened Alice on many occasions for talking about her sex life with my brother, I've always loved them being together. Jasper has found a way to calm her down some, and Alice has all but gotten rid of the introvert in Jazz.

Once I'm back at my place, I turn off the crock pot that has been cooking my dinner all day. I lift the lid and am assaulted with the delicious smell of my favorite chili.

I call Emmett, knowing he'll rip me a new one if I don't invite him over for some. I'm a little surprised when it goes to voicemail after a few rings, meaning he rejected the call.

 _Everything OK? - B_

 _Yeah, can't talk right now. At work. - E_

 _I thought you were off today? - B_

 _Mitch missed his shift, had to come in. - E_

 _Ah OK. I made your favorite :-) - B_

 _Sorry, B. Can't tonight, working late. Raincheck? - E_

 _Guess I'll just have to eat all this chili by myself... - B_

 _Don't tempt me. - E_

I find it weird that Em is taking his job at the coffee shop so seriously.

In the past when he's had a cover job, he's always gotten it part time and puts in the minimum effort to allow him to remain under the radar. He must really like managing the store or is still trying to hide blondie from me... I can only think he's doing this to ward off the jokes Jasper and I have been waiting to let loose on him.

I turn on Friends and sit on my couch as I eat through an embarrassing amount of chili, forgetting about Emmett and his blonde goddess as I admire Rachel's perfect hair and laugh at Phoebe's quirkiness.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Up next: meeting the family! What do you think will happen during the dinner tomorrow? Let me know your thoughts!**

 **Next update should be in about 2-3 weeks! If TBK reaches 200 reviews I will post the next chapter much, much sooner! Thank you all for reading and reviewing :) Until next time!**


	8. The Cullen Debacle

**A/N:**

 ***crawls out of her grave***

 **OKAY SO TO BE FAIR, I had no idea that my life was going to turn into complete chaos or I would have planned ahead. The time has really flown by, I had my BFF (and beta) come visit for 10 days then two weeks later I had my trip to London and then my friend's wedding Wales and in between those two weeks I was transitioning jobs and all these other little cluster fucks in between. BUT, slowly I'm getting back into the motions.**

 **Have patience.**

 ***This _entire story is already written_ , I just sometimes take so long to post because I either second guess little twists and happenings and change stuff around or I get too busy to reread after Kenz sends me back the edited version. I really do not want to take so long to post again, I want to get back into posting every 2-3 weeks. **

**Before I let ya get down to it, big thanks to Kenz. Seriously, you guys don't understand the work she does. I literally hand her a jumble of fucking words tangled all into each other and she just takes it all in and spits out complete beauty and actual writing. Thanks, boo.**

* * *

 **THE CULLEN DEBACLE**

The next morning, I wake on the couch with an empty bowl on the coffee table and a raw turkey on Joey Tribbiani's head flashing across the screen of my television, indicating how the day will be.

Time at the shop drags on, the nerves I had from my first date with Edward back in full force.

I lie to myself and say it's because I have to find a way to be alone long enough to plant the bugs Jasper has given to me, but I know it isn't true. Still, I avoid the truth at all costs, preferring my blissful ignorance.

Even though my mind is screaming for it, I don't call Alice, wanting to evade another interrogation about my supposed new client. Instead, I channel her in spirit, knowing she would be pleased with my choice of outfit for the evening.

I'm wearing a high waisted, A-line skirt that hits just above my calves. It is a light lavender with large water-colored pink blossoms strategically placed on it. I pair it with a grey sweater that has the shoulders cut out and dark grey, open toed wedges.

My dirty blonde hair is in a messy—but classy—bun, with a few thought out loose tendrils framing my face. I go for minimal make up, not wanting to give Edward's mother the impression that I'm a harlot, opting for a little winged eyeliner on my top lid. I top my look off with some nude lipstick and check myself out in the mirror, pleased with my new-found skill of fashion.

I get confirmation of how well I clean up when I open my apartment door to Edward.

"Well, if I warranted that reaction I think I better go change." I murmur after we break our embrace.

Edward chuckles and grabs my hand, "I think you'd get that reaction out of me wearing just about anything."

"Good to know." I smirk, grabbing up my purse and walking out the door, hand in hand with Edward.

I silently fidget the entire drive.

The route to Carlisle's is pretty familiar to me, a fact that Edward is oblivious to, which makes the nerves immensely worse. I start going through scenarios in my head, each one worse than the previous.

What if Carlisle or anyone else saw Emmett and I on camera? This could be a set up to get me in the house and hold me hostage for information.

I glance at Edward as he is seemingly at ease, drumming his fingers along to the beat of the classical music that fills the car. The sincerity in his eyes mirrors that of his father's—and I find myself believing they are not capable of carrying out the horrible 'what if's?' I am dreaming up internally.

I'm in the middle of yet another scenario involving duck tape, barbed wire, and Esme throwing hot tea in my face when Edward reaches over and grasps my hand gently in his.

I am suddenly all too aware that the car has come to stop in the driveway of the Cullen house. I look over at Edward, not quite meeting his eyes.

"Hey..." He murmurs, lifting my chin with his other hand. "We don't have to do this if you're uncomfortable. I know this is a little fast."

"No, no. I'm just a little nervous. Your family just seems so perfect." _A little too perfect..._

"Trust me, we're not. Like you said, you've already met my dad. That's already almost half." He grins, pulling me in for a quick, comforting kiss.

This simple gesture manages to make me forget everything, which I'm sure was Edward's intent.

"Ready?" He asks me, searching my face for any sign of my feelings.

I nod, stepping out of the car with more confidence than before.

The house looks different now that it has the sun to illuminate it. In the dark, it looked almost daunting. Now, I can appreciate how Mrs. Cullen has beautifully adorned the house.

The mansion-like home looks like it has been sitting here for nearly a century, but with signs of recent renovation. The restorations do nothing to the foundation of the house, they only compliment it's old age. Some parts of the house are cobblestone and the other parts smooth, cream colored concrete. The vast garden circling the house is breathtaking in the twilight of the day, something I had not had the chance to appreciate in the dead of night.

Carlisle opens the door before we approach the steps, smiling down at us. _Must have been alerted by the motion sensors,_ I deduce.

"Marie, gorgeous as always." He pulls me in for a warm hug and that childish, giddy, fucking school girl just _has_ to say hello.

We're going to have to sit down and have a heart to heart, me and her. This shit is getting ridiculous.

"Carlisle, you know better than you use that deadly charm of yours on innocent, unsuspecting women." I hear a woman chide playfully from inside the house.

I have this unusual urge to put on sunglasses when my eyes land on Esme Cullen. Her glowing beauty is almost blinding.

She has warm, slightly tanned skin, which accentuates this glow. Her long, caramel colored hair, which frames her heart shaped face perfectly, has a shine that is unachievable to most women. Her eyes—a strikingly familiar shade of green—are bright and gentle as she gazes at me admiringly.

"Oh, Marie, it's absolutely wonderful to meet you... _Finally_." Her eyes cut to Edward as she glares before turning back and smiling back at me while she opens her arms for a hug. When she draws me in, thoughts of my own mother flood my mind.

"Thank you. You have such a beautiful home, Mrs. Cullen." I express shyly.

"Oh, please. Call me Esme, Mrs. Cullen is my mother-in-law." She winks, "Why don't we get settled in the kitchen for now. I'm just waiting on a roast, and Rose is on her way."

We all follow her to a grand kitchen with pinewood floors and white cabinets. There are pans hanging above the island that look as though they've never been touched. But from the few times I've been up for a stake out here with Emmett, I am well aware they are used daily. The island alone is the size of half my kitchen, with tall wooden stools lining one side.

Edward and I sit next to each other, his arm draped across the back of my chair as he turns his body towards me. Carlisle stands near the oven, lovingly watching Esme finish up tonight's meal.

"What can I get for you, sweetheart? Wine, tea...?" Esme offers.

"Oh, just water for now is fine, thank you." I cannot afford a glass of wine on an empty stomach. It might hit me a little harder than it would normally, and the last thing I need to be is drunk right now. Lord knows what happens when I've had too much wine...

"Marie, I have to thank you for your delightful arrangements my Carlisle brings me. You have a natural talent. Have you been in the business long?" Esme asks as she sets two glasses of water in front of Edward and I.

"Oh, just a few weeks. This is my first business, actually. Before this I managed a restaurant back home in Wyoming that was owned by a friend."

"Well, congratulations! You are going to put that flower shop down the road out of business. How long have you been in Chicago?"

"I moved here just a week before I opened up the shop."

"This must be such a drastic change compared to what you're used to. How do you like Chicago so far?" She avoids asking about my parents, something I'm sure Carlisle or Edward have already told her about.

"I love it! It's such a stunning city with a lot of history. The art museums are amazing here. We don't have any like this back home."

As I'm taking a sip of the lemon water Esme put in front of me, I hear the front door open. Shortly after steps are heard approaching the living room.

"Edward tells me you met at the Art Institute here." She winks unabashedly, "A woman with a taste for art is his kryptonite. I'm surprised he didn't bend you over right there."

You know that feeling you get right before something really bad happens? Like a car accident, or when a knife falls while you're cutting something and it's headed towards your foot? There's a moment, right before it happens, that time slows. Your subconscious literally has a second to say, _oh shit_ , then time resumes and you crash, face first into it.

That's exactly what is happening to me now.

Edward's sister walks in, all legs and gorgeous golden blonde hair—the same golden blonde hair that I saw at a certain restaurant a few weeks ago. Her icy blue eyes zero in on me, but I'm far too preoccupied with the man walking in behind her to be intimidated.

A second after my ' _oh shit'_ moment, I do a spit-take. Except this is not a Hollywood spit-take, and I'm definitely no high-paid actress who manages to pull this off comedically while still being classy and cute.

During all of this, I still have—thankfully—managed to keep the glass up against my lips. Instead of the water spraying all over Edward—who I'm facing—it blasts into the glass, but because of physics, the water hurdles back and ends up all over my face.

"Shit!" I blurt as my eyes feel the sting of the lemon in my drink.

I silently curse poor Esme, who only wanted to spruce up my water for me. She couldn't have envisioned the water ending up anywhere other than my mouth, however, so I forgive her.

I clench my eyes shut, waiting for the stinging to go away.

"Oh god, Marie, I'm so sorry. I'm too crass for my own good sometimes." I hear Esme cry.

"No, no! It went down the wrong way, that's all." I assure her, eyes still clamped—to avoid the sting or reality, I'm unsure.

"Here, let me help." Edward says a few inches from my ear.

I feel a napkin blot my face gently while a warm hand holds my face still.

Once I feel my face is dry, I open my eyes to a blurry image of five bodies standing all around me. I blink a few times and focus my eyes on Edward, who's standing close to me, still holding my face.

I clear my throat and force a laugh out, "I'm so sorry, I don't know what happened there."

"Nonsense! Don't apologize, please. I forget that we just met, you'll soon learn how I can get with a few glasses of wine in me."

I'm grateful that I had Esme's comment to hide behind for my mishap. I smile warmly at her and let her know that vulgar is always welcome with me before she turns towards Rosalie and her boyfriend.

"Now, who is this handsome linebacker?" Esme cheerfully rocks on her feet and claps her hands together in an eager, Alice-like manner—a stark contrast to how I'm feeling right now.

Rosalie rolls her eyes, the side of her mouth slightly lifting into a smile. "Mom, this is Liam."

 _Liam_ beams at Esme, but when she offers a hand he bypasses it and brings her into a bear hug. "Mrs. C! It's a pleasure."

Esme practically bathes in his greeting as if they are old family friends. "Oh, Rose! He's absolutely wonderful!" She blushes slightly as he puts her down and it takes a great amount of willpower to not roll my eyes.

After Carlisle gives him a few welcoming words, Edward and I stand to introduce ourselves.

I deliberately choose Rosalie first, not because she's Edward's sister, but because I'm trying to avoid the burly beast of a man behind her.

"Hi, I'm Marie. So nice to finally meet you." I extend my hand to her kindly.

She holds my gaze for quite a while, accessing me with those piercing blue eyes, almost like she's making sure I am who I say I am. I look back at her, confident and steady. After a moment, she nods her head imperceptibly and shakes my hand.

"Rosalie." She affirms before she lets go of my hand and dismisses my existence.

I turn, too caught up in my own thoughts to feel offended by her, and hold my hand out again, looking up to meet my twin brother's brown eyes.

"Hi, I'm Marie, nice to meet you."

Emmett grasps my hand, his grip nearly crushing. "Liam, the pleasure is all mine." He gives me a dimpled smile.

To anyone else, this looks like a pleasant exchange between two strangers. But only I can see the fire burning behind my brother's eyes.

Esme resumes gushing over him, giggling on about a Shakespearean play and how Emmett has finally tamed her hellion of a daughter.

"Well now," Esme claps once, "let's all shuffle into the living room."

Edward comes up behind me—oblivious to the exchange between my brother and I—as I'm waiting for everyone to cross the threshold, his hand rests on my waist as he whispers in my ear, "I think she likes you. Rosalie."

Emmett looks back casually watching our exchange as I turn into Edward's arms, before heading out of the kitchen. I choose to ignore him so my nerves don't get any more shot than they have already gotten.

" _That's 'like'_?" I mutter, eyes wide with disbelief.

"You're the first girl she's introduced herself to." He chuckles.

Before I can stop the words, they come flying out of me. "You bring home girls often?"

Edward looks at me seriously, "No... You're technically the first, but she's met girls I've dated in the past and doesn't so much as even glance in their direction."

I pull him down for a quick kiss, "Thanks for the honesty." I lie—I just want a distraction from Emmett being here.

"Thanks for dealing with my mom."

I giggle, "She's a trip. That really went down the wrong way. I'm disappointed I couldn't give her a comeback to that."

He gives me my favorite crooked smile, "You'll have plenty more opportunities for redemption. I promise."

We make our way to the dining room but I can't find myself able to appreciate the beautifully arranged food Esme has set out for us tonight. My mind is reeling with thoughts of how Emmett can efficiently kill me without leaving any evidence. To think, just a few minutes ago I was worried about the Cullens. I know my brother too well to dwell the fact that he is much more lethal than this entire family combined.

I sit and sneak a peek over at him, he smiles warmly at me. _Oh, he's fucking pissed._

We all make chit chat as we gather food on our plates and begin eating. I don't contribute much to conversation but to answer questions. With every cell in my body screaming to get the fuck out of dodge, I can't find it in me to talk freely.

Emmett, however, seems completely at ease and totally in his element. He's his usual joking self, telling jokes and laughing loudly at the ones Esme shares.

Edward reaches over and squeezes my leg in reassurance, taking my quiet demeanor as being nervous. I grin at him, taking his hand in mine and squeezing back.

Emmett coughs, distracting Edward and I from our quiet exchange. When I focus back on my food, I put more effort into the conversation.

During an intense debate between Edward and Carlisle about the changes in today's politics, I fall silent and listen intently to them while eating the rest of Esme's pot roast. My eyes wander over to Emmett again, who's watching Rosalie talk to Esme animatedly about a new business deal she's acquired.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Emmett tapping his fork subtly.

When we were kids, he and I taught ourselves Morse code after watching _Balto_ , the Disney movie about sled dogs. We would tap on each other's walls in the middle of the night to relay messages through them and when we grew older, we'd talk secretly during class to exchange answers for a test.

I whip my head back to Edward and Carlisle's talk, ignoring him. God only knows the sling of curse words he's tapping.

After a few more glances I see his tapping grows relentless. I give up and focus on his fingers, deciphering the message.

 _What the fuck, Bella?_

 _What the fuck, Bella?_

 _What the fuck, Bella?_

He taps that over and over again. I fight the urge to roll my eyes—it'll only make matters worse. I tap my message on my glass of wine as I go to take a sip, ignoring his initial one.

 _Distract them for me._

"Where's the restroom?" I whisper into Edward's ear.

He gives me directions and I stand to leave, casting one last glance in Emmett's direction.

I hope that he's not angry enough to leave me high and dry. If I get caught where I don't belong, I may as well be pulled from the mission because I'll be useless if I lose Edward's trust—or dead, depending on how you look at it.

I make it to the bathroom and make sure to close the door audibly. Waiting a minute, I turn the light back off and sneak out, opening every door as I walk down the hall. I only see bathrooms, closets, and a sitting area that overlooks the front yard.

At the end of the hall I reach a door that is locked and pull out a small lock picking kit that I tucked into the waistband of my skirt and eye the lock, deciding of the size of pick I need.

I can hear Emmett telling a particularly raunchy joke—one of his favorites. I've heard this one about a thousand times, it's about a guy walking into a bar and a lesbian bartender.

The lock to cooperates within a few seconds and I sneak into the room, closing the door behind me. The room appears to be an office that belongs to Carlisle.

I quickly plant two bugs, one hidden underneath his desk and another behind a bookshelf before taking advantage of the opportunity that has presented itself for me.

In the first drawer of his desk, I find nothing but regular paperwork for businesses Carlisle keeps books for. They are all local businesses, nothing serious.

The second drawer has a high-tech lock that requires a pin code and fingerprint. I have the technology to open it, but not on me. Even if I did, it would certainly take at least ten minutes, maybe a few more for me to lift a usable fingerprint from this office and for the code grabber to crack the passcode. I don't have that kind of time here. Reluctantly, I keep moving.

In the third drawer, I find some personal clients of his but none of the names I recognize. I slip my phone out of my skirt pocket, snapping pictures of all the documents and sending them to Jasper.

On the last drawer, I hurry through the files, wanting to send Jazz as much info as I can.

Just as I'm about to close the cabinet, a name pops out at me. _Ronald H. King_. It's similar to Royce King, but that I'm aware of Royce is the first in his generation to get into the crime business. His parents are squeaky clean and have denounced him completely, living a quiet life in Canada.

 _Ronald could be his real name..._

I pick up the manila folder and open it. All of the paperwork shows the closing of bank accounts. There are twenty-two accounts in total, all of which were drained months ago, before being closed. The amount totalling up to around five-hundred million dollars that have been spread across banks around the world.

 _Why would he keep this kind of paperwork?_ I wonder.

I jump at the sound of Em's boisterous laugh.

 _Overkill, Emmett._ I roll my eyes at his efforts to impress the Cullen's.

Putting the file back neatly, I scurry out of the office, locking the door behind me.

I get back to the table just in time to hear Emmett's punch line.

"And then she says, 'smell my breath'!" He shakes with laughter, banging his hand on the table.

Esme is hunched over, cackling with tears in her eyes, while Edward and Carlisle chuckle quietly. Rosalie is blushing as she smirks.

I sit back down, smiling brightly at everyone's laughter.

"Oh, Marie!" Esme giggles, wiping tears from her eyes, "You _have_ to hear this one. Liam, please, tell Marie."

 _Please don't._

I have to remind myself that Esme does not know I have had to endure this stupid joke time and time again for years. Still, a few curses cross my mind as I look attentively at Emmett and laugh at the appropriate times.

The conversation wanes as dessert comes and goes. I couldn't hold myself back from having two servings of Esme's angel cake. This seems to excite her, and she proceeds to watch me with bright eyes as I shovel cake into my mouth.

"Oh my god, Esme. You are a wonderful cook. Thank you." I moan.

I see Edward shift slightly in his seat in my peripheral and inwardly smirk.

"You have to come to breakfast next week! We have breakfast for dinner every Wednesday here. Edward and Rose usually try and stop by for some when they can—although they both have been pretty preoccupied these past weeks." She winks as she gives us a lop-sided grin. "Liam, I'd love to see you come back as well."

"I'd be more than happy to Mrs. C. I make a mean quiche I can bring with me." He winks and gives Esme an all-star smile.

"Ooohh, Rose I like this one." She whispers loudly to her daughter as she props her head onto her hand dreamily. Esme's eyes are glazed over and she has found anything anyone has said in the past twenty minutes hilarious.

"I think my lovely lady needs to retire." Carlisle laughs.

We all give goodbye hugs and Carlisle walks us out, jokingly apologizing for his lush of a wife.

"I'll be seeing you, Marie." Rose calls over her shoulder as her, barely taking the time to look back while she and Emmett make their way to his car.

Edward helps me into the car before hopping in and starting the engine. My eyes are glued to Emmett's Jeep as he peels out of the driveway.

I know what's waiting back at my apartment, and I'm not quite ready to meet my imminent fate.

"Actually... I don't wanna go home just yet." I murmur, turning to look at Edward.

"Okay. We can go to my place for a drink?"

"That sounds perfect."

_*line here*_

"Marie?"

I turn away from the large window overlooking the lovely green scenery that has now grown dark and shift my gaze over to Edward.

He sits down on his couch and holds up a glass of wine, beckoning me over.

I lean back against the window and admire him from this distance. He stares back, trying to get a read on me.

"What's on your mind?" He asks quietly after he fails.

I shake my head, thankful that he can't read minds. If he knew what was plaguing me right now he wouldn't be offering me a drink.

I'd give anything to stay in the confines of these walls with Edward and never have to face the wrath of my brother that patiently waits for me.

Unzipping my skirt, I stare into Edward's eyes as I decide on enjoying my last few moments of peace.

The skirt pools at my feet, allowing him to become aware of the fact that I am not wearing anything underneath. I took the liberty of slipping off my underwear in the bathroom once we had arrived here, which I now acknowledge was a great decision.

I slip my sweater over my head and let it join the skirt before reaching behind and unclasping my bra.

"I'll never get tired of seeing you like this." Edward marvels, absentmindedly setting the glasses of wine on the coffee table beside him.

I move slow, deliberately, as I make my way towards him. Easing myself down to straddle him, I let him admire me from a closer view.

"Your confidence is like an aphrodisiac, you know that?" He murmurs.

"How so?"

"Some women are overconfident, which in itself is unattractive. Others, on the other hand, lack it entirely, making it difficult for them to take compliments or enjoy sex... But you..." He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear reverently before letting his hand trail lower and lower. "You've found a perfect medium. So self aware and sure of yourself in the sexiest way."

I smile at his admiration, thankful for the advice I received long ago on how to love myself and be comfortable in my own skin. "I learned years ago that life is so much easier when you don't tear yourself down with negativity." I reply quietly.

"Well, I wish I could thank whoever told you that."

 _I highly doubt you'd like to do that..._ I inwardly quip.

His eyes divert towards my right shoulder and his forehead creases in worry. Before I can realize what exactly he's looking at, he drags a finger across my round scar. It's about the size of a quarter, slightly raised and pink.

I earned it in my time spent in Russia with Emmett. It was during the first few weeks we were there. We had run into a couple of crooked soldiers that guarded the village we had been stationed near. I remember it being one of the darkest, coldest nights we spent there.

Emmett and I were shooting blindly at them while they shot at us. One of the bullets managed to catch up with me, piercing right through my shoulder. I didn't even feel it until we had made it back safely to the youth hostel we were hiding out at. That is one of the many scars that decorate my body.

"I slipped and fell onto a thick branch when I was a teenager, pierced right through." I murmur.

His hand trails back behind my shoulder to feel the other scar. I'm almost about to say it doesn't hurt anymore since the worry doesn't leave his eyes, but he distracts me by running his other hand across my abdomen, feeling the thick, two-inch-long scar right below my rib cage.

Stab wound from my time in London. "I was swimming in a river a few summers ago. Current caught me and dragged me across a particularly sharp rock." I reply.

His eyes search now, roaming across my body in a different kind of way than I'm used to. His hands find the dozens of tiny marks on my thighs.

Glass wounds from a particularly high fall through a glass roof window in Cabo. "Fell on glass." I raise place my hands on my shoulders to showcase the matching scars on the backs of my forearms.

I stop his hands, growing tired of the lies that are spilling out of my mouth. He looks up at me, the worry disappearing, morphing into a small smirk. "You are quite clumsy, Miss Woods."

I smile back, "So nice of you to point out the obvious, Mr. Cullen."

His smirk grows larger and he opens his mouth to say something, but I cut him off by dragging his hands up to my breasts.

He gives them one gentle squeeze, his eyes heavy, before he wraps his hands arms around me. He stands, lifting me with him, holding me close as I begin to assault his lips, gently biting and reveling in the moans that come from deep within his chest.

He carries me down the hall, never faltering in step. Once we reach our destination, he sets me down gently on the bed and he pulls back from me silently. I bring up a hand to caress his cheek as we both stare into each other's eyes for a moment. He ducks his head slowly, his lips gently meeting the scar on my shoulder.

Taking his time, he makes his way down stopping at my second scar on my abdomen, showering it with a series of gentle kisses. When he reaches my thighs, his intentions become blatantly clear to me.

My eyes flutter close as I enjoy the feel of Edward's lips on my skin, leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake.

After a few moments, his hand slips into mine and he pulls me up. Before I have time to question, he motions for me to turn around.

Kneeling on the bed, I look over my shoulder at him as he leans towards my last scar, placing a feather light kiss on it before pulling me towards him until my back is flush against his bare chest. When he found the time to take his clothes off is beyond me, but I can't bring myself to care as his hands find their way to my breasts again.

One of his hands leaves me, reappearing around my waist. In one swift and tender motion, he lifts me slightly and slowly lowers me on to his length. I cry out from the unexpectedness of being filled so completely along with all of the other accompanying sensations. Edward bites down on my shoulder in paralleled euphoria.

My fingers find his hair like magnets to metal, and I pull lightly while he uses his arm to lift me up and down methodically.

This new angle makes my eyes roll back in ecstasy. Judging by the sounds coming from Edward, I am pleased to find him enveloped in the same feelings.

He swats my hand away suddenly—a hand that I didn't even know had made it's way to my center—and replaces it with his own, creating tiny, quick circles which I'm sure will unravel me within seconds.

"As much as I loved watching you touch yourself," He pants slightly, "I've been looking forward to doing this since I first laid eyes on you."

I let out an embarrassingly loud moan and let my head fall back on to his shoulder as he puts more pressure on me, picking up the pace slightly.

Stars materialize behind my eyelids as I come, my walls spasm around him, coaxing his own orgasm out.

In this moment of pure happiness and content, I realize the trouble I am in.

Long after Edward has fallen asleep, I lay awake.

I know avoiding whatever fuck cluster is waiting for me at home any longer will just do more harm, but I can't bring myself to leave.

Propping my head up on an arm as I lay next to him, I admire his sleeping form, devoid of any stress lines like the ones marring my own face. The peacefulness on his face makes me smile to myself, taking in all the beauty he has to offer and committing it to memory.

I can't deny any longer that I'm falling for this man, hard. I know Emmett sees it, too. I still choose to ignore my real life waiting back at home in DC. If the world is giving me just a short amount of time with Edward Cullen, I'm going to take that time and grip it tight.

A quote from a favorite novelist pushes its way into my mind at this thought.

 _Everything I've ever let go of has claw marks on it..._

I refuse to think of what Edward will look like when I'm forced to let go of him.

Looking back at the alarm clock next to his bed, I see it's nearly five in the morning. I grab my phone and order a cab to come get me, thinking that Emmett has waited long enough.

Part of me hopes he got too tired and left, but it's a fleeting hope that's crushed with the understanding of my brother's character. It takes a hell of a lot of effort to piss off Emmett, but once that fuse is lit, you are completely done for.

My phone alerts me that the cab has arrived and I silently get dressed.

The walk downstairs almost feels like a walk of shame. I heave myself into the car, and after giving the driver directions I lay my head back and close my eyes. Within the darkness I have created, I attempt to think of anything but what's waiting for me.

I drag my feet up to my apartment immaturely. I know I look like a four-year-old on their way to a spanking but I can't seem to care. Halfway up the stairs, my phone buzzes with a text.

 _Godspeed. - J_

 _How bad is it? - B_

 _He's been there since 10 last night... - J_

I groan inwardly... This is bad. This is really bad.

I open the door as slowly as possible, a little shred of hope still inside me that Emmett fell asleep.

Keeping my eyes downcast, I lock the door and turn towards the living room.

The apartment's eerie quietness confirms that Emmett is still awake. If he were sleeping, the walls would be rattling from his snores.

I raise my eyes and see him sitting on the couch, silently fuming and refusing to look in my direction. His eyes are slightly bloodshot, apparent bags underneath them, almost as though he's been staring down at the floor, waiting for me to walk through the door since his arrival.

"I can explain..." I mutter.

"Explain?... _Explain_?" He bursts as his eyes shoot up to meet mine.

He looks exactly like my father right now, even playing the part of a parent.

Whenever one of my brothers or I would get in deep shit, Renee or Charlie would just repeat what we would say incredulously like they couldn't even believe we were attempting to pull excuses out of our asses.

"If you just hear me out—"

" _Hear you out?_ " He repeats back to me.

 _Mom and dad would be so proud right now._

"Will you stop repeating everything I'm saying and _listen_?!" I insist.

"Isabella, this is serious shit. You have officially fallen deep into the rabbit hole—you know what?" He continues, his voice growing louder every word, "You're not even _in_ the rabbit hole anymore. This is _fucking wonderland_ you've belly flopped into!"

"I know what I'm doing—" I interrupt just as loud, tired of this fucking rabbit hole everyone seems to be talking about.

" _NO!_ You don't!" He roars, standing. "You think I don't know you? You think I don't see the way you look at him? What the fuck is this, Isabella?"

"It's _me_ doing my fucking job right, Emmett. That's what this is!" I yell back.

" _Your job_ is to get the information we need to take these assholes down, not _fuck your mark_."

My eyes water as if he's punched me in the gut, but those words sting so much more than if he would have.

"And _you_? Hmm? What about you?!..." I shout, "Don't think I don't know you've been slumming it up with Rosalie Cullen, lying to me about what you're doing... Going behind my back? Really Emmett? I _saw_ you guys at that Italian restaurant downtown." I bite back.

"Oh, so now _you're_ spying on _me_?... In case you haven't realized it yet, _Rosalie_ isn't creating fake W2's and helping the world's most dangerous criminals launder even more money into their pockets!"

"She used to, Emmett! She fucking used to!" I can feel my face growing hot as we spit fiery words at each other. "Did she tell you that? Or were you too busy with your tongue down her throat to find that out?"

"She left! Edward is about to _take over_ this fucking business if you haven't forgotten!"

"You _knew_ who she was, Emmett. You knew and you've been seeing her this entire time and haven't told anyone. _I_ told Jasper, _I_ planted those bugs in that house to find shit out. What the fuck have you been doing? Making coffee and screwing some dumb blonde's brains out?"

He strides towards, towering over me with a rage I've never seen before. If I knew better I'd be scared, but it only fuels my own wrath. " _Don't_ you fucking say that about her! And don't you act like you're a saint in all of this, you knew damn well who the fuck Edward was, don't try to point the finger at me."

The truth snatches me up and shakes me. I step back as this realization dawns on me; my eyes widen and I bark a humorless laugh. "Oh my god... You _love_ her." I say the words as soon they form in my mind.

Emmett bristles. "We're not doing this right now."

"Doing what?" I patronize, "Telling the pot to meet the kettle?"

"You're not understanding. Rosalie is out of the business, she's _done_! She has no ties with any criminals anymore—and the ties she did have weren't as extensive as the ones her family members have. She'll just get a slap on the wrist, if anything… Edward? He's in the thick of it. What do you think happens to criminals like him? What do you think happens to agents like you, who break protocol and sleep with their targets?"

I stay silent, my eyes seething with anger as I look up at Emmett.

"Ohhh... _ding, ding, ding_! She fucking gets it!" He slaps his hand on his thigh sarcastically as he turns to his imaginary audience. "You know, this is an all-time low—especially for you, Bella... You should have just stayed an analyst if you were going to _literally_ fuck this mission."

I hear a loud smack and see Emmett's head jerk to the side but only when my right hand registers the sting do I realize that I have just slapped my own brother.

" _Get. The. Fuck. Out_." I hiss.

He walks past me, eyes burning but not from pain.

I quickly decide I'm not done—not quite yet. I'm so infuriated at the audacity Emmett has to tell me I don't deserve my job. My heart feels like it's been lacerated by the words my own flesh and blood has thrown at me. Something ugly inside me rears it's head and whispers for me to cut into him one last time. I give in, listening intently.

"You think she'll forgive you?" I turn around, sight blurry from my tears as they pour out of me. His footsteps falter as he stops, his hand on the open door. "You think she'll come running into your arms when shit goes down?... She'll fucking _hate_ you, Emmett. She'll never forgive you for tearing her family apart... So, you go on enjoy what little time you have left in that twisted fantasy of yours."

He chooses to not acknowledge my comment, and instead slams the door behind him as he storms out with such force that a few frames fall from the walls and shatter on the ground.

I collapse with, sobbing uncontrollably, now as pure anguish eclipses my anger.

My phone buzzes in my pocket but I ignore it, laying down on the hardwood and wrapping my arms around myself.

I'm so exhausted from the fighting, crying, and sleep deprivation that I easily let the blackness take over after I close my eyes.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Yikes... That was a tough scene to write, but I masochistically enjoyed it, hehehe.**

 **I have no trips to Europe planned or plan on changing jobs, so it's safe to say that the next chapter can be expected in 2-3 weeks! I'll try and put a rush on it as an apology for after two months!**

 **Thank you all for reading! Reviews are awesome and light a fire under my ass to hurry up and post the next chapter!**

 **Do you think Emmett and Bella will be quick to make up? Or do you think their fighting is what's going to cost them this mission? Let me know your thoughts!**


	9. The Breakfast Debacle

**A/N:**

 **Hello again! :) within the 2-3 weeks, just as promised!**

 **Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed, I didn't get a chance to reply to all of the reviews because I've been swamped with work but just know they all put a smile on my face! Things are winding down at work, so hoping to be less busy this summer.**

 **I do want to address a few concerns: Just like the CIA head quarters are in the US but they do espionage, the Cullens "head quarters" are in the US too, but they work with criminals all over the world. The reason this case has been taken over by the CIA is because the Volturi are based out of Italy and the Cullens do a lot of their work outside the US.**

 **I try and stay as close to reality as possible, but on some things I like to gloss over or use imagination, which I hope you all can too :)**

 **Also, yes this story is fully written, but sometimes I change my mind on things and have to go back and rewrite what I want to add into the story or take away certain things and I want to be able to have that flexibility if I just post when I'm ready than bulk posting chapters.**

 **Before I let ya go, giving a big thanks again to Kenz for making all of this presentable! This chapter is a little shorter than normal because I had to cut it somewhere and that was a good stopping point. See ya'll down below...**

* * *

 **THE BREAKFAST DEBACLE**

 _Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz._

My eyes feel heavy and swollen as I attempt to pry them open.

I reach in my purse, grabbing my phone and answering without looking.

"Marie Woods." I croak.

"Bella, I've been calling you for hours. Why haven't you answered?" Jasper cries exasperatedly.

"M'sorry." I mumble.

"How bad was it?"

I turn onto my back and stare up at the cracked, slightly molded ceiling, fresh tears burning as they form in my eyes.

"An epic cluster fuck would be an understatement."

"Emmett won't answer any of my calls... What the hell happened? Are you okay?"

"We said a lot of really fucked up shit to each other." I sniff, giving him a short run down of my morning.

"You guys have gotten into fights before..." He comforts lightly.

"I've never slapped him before."

I hear Jazz let out a deep breath, "Fuck, Bella."

"Did he tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"How he found out?"

Silence… "No, I assumed he caught you guys making out or something. He called me while he was waiting, but wasn't making much sense."

I sit up, feeling anger bubble over in the pit of my stomach.

I don't think Emmett was counting on Jasper already being on my side when he called. Well, technically he isn't, he just trusts me. Unlike my other brother.

"He was lying to us the whole time." I snap. "He was over at their fucking house, Jasper. With _Rosalie Cullen_. He's been sleeping with her this entire time behind our backs, knowing who she was!"

" _What?_ "

"He fucking went over there _for dinner_... With her _parents_!"

"Well, you did that, too, Bella…" He mentions carefully.

" _I know_. But I at least had the balls to tell you and actually did my fucking job! He went there empty handed."

"I'm sure he would have told us eventually." He concedes.

" _Don't_ take his side, Jasper! He lied to us! To his own _family_." I shriek.

"Hey, hey. Calm down. I'm not taking sides here. If I'm being completely honest, you _both_ have royally fucked up. You two are walking a fine line here. I'm putting my neck out on the line covering for you, and now I have to cover for Emmett, too."

I do some breathing exercises to help calm down—I don't need to fight with another brother.

"Sorry." I offer after I'm done.

"It's okay... Look, I'm sorry about Emmett, I hate seeing you guys like this. But that's not the reason I've been trying to get a hold of you."

"What's wrong?"

"I found something. In those names you sent me last night, the ones you found in the Bookkeeper's office."

"No shit?" I breathe, wiping my wet face.

I quickly glance at the time on my phone. It's well into the afternoon and I briefly worry about the shop before settling the phone back down to my ear.

"Diana Rimini. Squeaky clean at a glance—lives a quiet life in Montana, owns the bakery she works out of. But then I see she also owns a small bread factory in Soledad, Colombia."

"I think a bread factory would be pretty normal for a baker, Jazz."

"It is. But I checked and she has no record of ever entering Colombia. If you were going to buy a business, wouldn't you want to go see it first?

"Satellite footage shows it's completely abandoned. I checked out the company that contracts them, and they have them listed in the books as working.

"She claims it on her taxes every year like a good American. Although, it doesn't bring in a lot of money, barely a couple hundred-grand year—which is why it's not going off on any radars. But how can a factory that doesn't work keep making profits?"

"You think someone's using it to clean money?" I ask

"Partly. I think they have something going on over there. Why would they keep an abandoned factory when they could easily just create a new business that can garter in more money?"

"Hmm... There's a good chance of that. How fast can you get me out there?"

"It's gonna take me some time—a week, maybe two. I need to make sure I get you guys a good cover on both ends and have a briefing with Kate. Also need to gather some back up for you guys just in case. There aren't a lot of agents who are jumping up and down for any assignment in Colombia, much less going in blind. Kate wants as little people knowing about this case and our involvement with the Volturi, so we wouldn't be able to divulge as much information about this to any agents that take the job."

"I'm ready to go when you figure it all out."

"I'm on it... Hey, Bella?"

"Hmm?"

"Don't worry. I know you guys didn't mean any of what you said. This will all blow over in a few days. Emmett can't stay mad for long."

I tear up again, unable to hold back the swell of emotion that bubbles up inside of me at his words. He wouldn't be saying that if he had been there. "Thanks, Jazz." I mumble.

_*line here*_

Letting out another dejected sigh as I eye the clock above the kitchen stove.

If I wait any longer, I'll be late for dinner at the Cullen house. I mentally debate on whether to text Edward and tell him I'm feeling ill, but I know he won't believe me. I was in high spirits just a few hours ago for lunch.

For the past few days, Edward has been a great distraction. I forget all about Emmett and our ugly words when I'm with Edward, but I am brought back to my harsh reality in our time apart, becoming beyond miserable.

I don't receive any updates, funny pictures, or jokes which Emmett usually sends me throughout the day. My phone doesn't blare _P.I.M.P_ , and the chili I made again on Monday night sits in a plastic container in the fridge, untouched.

It's like a part of me has been ripped away. I miss my twin brother, but I'm going to have to face him without having settled anything. It's not like we can talk things through with Mr. Platinum right there with us.

I toy with the mustard yellow cardigan I'm wearing as I reluctantly make my way towards the front door. The picture frames still lie broken on the floor, the evidence of our feud staring back at me. I scowl at them, silently wishing they would right themselves so I won't have to.

The drive over to the Cullen's house is silent as my stomach churns. There's no reason for me to worry about being convincing enough to not alert anyone of the familial strife between Emmett and I, because I know I will be. And yet, I find myself fidgeting more than I would like.

I've spent years swallowing my emotions and being the best agent I can be, and I'll be damned if today is any different. It just pains me that, on the inside, both Emmett and I will feel complete opposite than our masks will portray on the outside.

Stepping out of the car, I take a deep breath and clear my mind before walking up the stone steps.

Edward opens the door before I can even manage a knock, grinning brightly as if he hasn't seen me in weeks. I return the grin in kind.

He pulls me towards him by the waist, assaulting my lips with a passionate welcome. I lean into him, moaning slightly as he bites my lip.

A throat clears and we pull apart. Emmett and Rosalie stand near the end of the foyer.

Rosalie has a small smirk on her face as she looks at Edward. Emmett, however, takes a second to compose the glare he's shooting at me before his face becomes a blank mask.

"Rosalie, Liam... Hi." I greet innocently.

"Marie." Rosalie nods curtly before turning around and heading into the kitchen. Emmett gives a slight smile and nod before following her.

"I think she _really_ likes you." Edward mutters next to me.

"Oh, yeah. Absolutely _adores_ me." I add in fake enthusiasm.

He chuckles as his hand finds the small of my back and gently leads me to his parents.

"Marie! So good to see you again. I'm glad you could make it." Esme beams at me as she leaves her French toast on the stove to give me a warm hug.

"Thank you, Esme. It's so nice to see you, too." I smile back.

"You all go on in to the patio, I'm just about done here." She shoos us away, hands waving, denying any and all help offered.

Rosalie leads us to a glass enclosed patio that overlooks their massive backyard garden.

The table is already set with various fruits, pitchers of iced tea, coffee, and orange juice, and enough food to feed a small army.

I can tell that the quiche sitting in the very middle of the table is Emmett's because it has a smiley face made of mushrooms and small pieces of ham sporadically placed on it.

"Edward would you be a doll and drag your father out of the study?" Esme asks as she steps into the room balancing a cake and a large platter of French toast.

I pour myself and Esme a glass of orange juice as we wait for the guys to join us. Emmett casually chats with Rosalie as she rubs his thigh subconsciously, inching a little too far up when she thinks no one is looking. I nearly gag at the sight, but I distract myself by asking Esme what recipe she uses for that delicious angel food cake I had the other night.

Edward and Carlisle join us shortly after and we all begin enthusiastically plating our food. Breakfast has always been Emmett and I's favorite meal of the day. Back home, we would always have brunch several times a week together.

I'm in the middle of discussing the flowers that are in season right now with Esme when Rosalie pointedly clears her throat.

Carlisle, Edward, and Emmett continue on with their conversation about the stock market, ignoring her. I glance at her, finding her staring back at me with indifference. I figure the throat clearing was directed towards me, as Esme pauses and smiles warmly at her daughter.

"My parents are hosting a birthday party for me next weekend." Rosalie declares, "I wouldn't mind if you came."

 _Is that an invitation... Or permission?_

I look back at her with the same level of indifference, "That'd be nice, thank you." I'm not even bothering to suck up to her. There's no point. I give her a polite smile before resuming my conversation with Esme.

Edward squeezes the hand that rests on his lap, the only acknowledgement he gives to the short conversation I've had with his sister.

"Oh, we also have a charity auction coming up!" Esme gushes, leaning towards me in excitement. "Every year Carlisle and I host a party here. The local artists donate pieces of work and I have a small group of performers, too. All the money goes to a nonprofit organization that helps teen mothers."

 _Okay, seriously? A fucking charity auction? How the fuck are these guys criminals?_

"That's so sweet, Esme. I'd love it if you allowed me to come!"

"Oh of course, sweetie. I brought it up to invite you!

"It's no big deal, I just help where I can. I wish I had someone there to help me when I was pregnant with Edward at such a young age. Luckily, I had Carlisle and his parents there after my own parents kicked me out. But I know some young women aren't so lucky.

"The organization helps those who are alone through the decision-making process and takes care of them. If they opt for adoption, the agency sets them up with a great family. If they decide on keeping their baby, they have an amazing GED program that allows these girls to graduate early, as well as a career practicum program that finds them jobs. It's truly an amazing organization!"

"Wow, that is amazing. I wish I had some piece of art to donate..."

"You do." Edward smirks beside me, having overheard. "Remember, we did those paintings? You can always donate that."

I slightly narrow my eyes as his smile grows wickedly larger. "Yeah, I might just do that... You could donate yours, too, you know."

His eyes turn serious as he minutely shakes his head. "Not a chance. I have other pieces I'll be donating, but that one will always stay with me." He winks.

Esme giggles quietly at us before retrieving the cake from the table.

"Would anyone like a piece of lemon coconut cake? Marie?"

"Oh, no thank you. I'm allergic to coconut." I decline regretfully, the cake making my mouth water.

"I'm so sorry, dear. Edward never mentioned it." She gives him a pointed look.

"No, no! It's okay, I never told him. It just never came up."

"Well, I have some of that angel cake left over, I'll bring it out for you. Liam, would you like some lemon coconut cake?"

Emmett shifts uncomfortably in his seat, clearing his throat. "Uhm, no... Thanks, Mrs. C... I'm, er, actually allergic, too."

"Oh, my. What a coincidence!" She laughs. "What an uncommon allergy... And two people at my table have it."

My stomach clenches as she says this, a spout of paranoia washing over me.

"You know I actually had this happen to me once before." She continues, a hand on her hip and one at her chin as she tries to remember. "Carlisle, who was it?"

"Oh, the Carter twins." Carlisle replies mindlessly as he cuts into his last sausage link.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Emmett's grip on his fork tighten infinitesimally. As he does this, I calculate the distance between my car and I—where my gun lies underneath the driver's seat.

Some sick part of me, most likely the trained agent part of me, takes over my mind and begins thinking of ways I could take Esme and Rosalie down as I eye the sharp the butter knife that sits a few inches from my fingers. _Forty seconds. That's all I'd need... Start with Esme, go for the—_

"That's right!" Esme snaps, bringing me out of my violent thoughts. "The Carter twins. Oh, how lovely they were. They had a rare allergy to corn, the pair of them... But, yes. Two different people and one uncommon allergy at my table. I guess I just have bad luck as a host sometimes." She giggles, waving her comment off as she retreats to the kitchen.

It's only when she brings us both back a piece of angel food cake that our shoulders return to normal. No one caught the _very_ slight tense of our shoulders at Esme's revelation, but it was certainly there.

We all help Esme clear the table and settle back into the patio, but on the wicker couches this time, to enjoy mimosas.

A few mimosas in and I find myself cursing Esme, yet again. This poor woman is gonna have a miniature replica of her with pins and needles sticking out of it at the rate I'm going.

"Oh, Marie! I got distracted last time... You and Edward met at the Art Institute of Chicago a few weeks ago, what happened after?"

Emmett meets my eyes briefly, and I see a tiny twitch of his left eye before he turns back to Esme.

Edward jumps in and tells the story about how he walked into to the flower shop after I hadn't given him my name, and found me to be the owner of it.

Afterwards, curiosity peaks and I ask Rosalie how her and Emmett—well, Liam—met. I assume since Esme never asked that she already knew beforehand.

She chuckles, "Oh, we met at the Hopleaf a few weeks ago."

She doesn't elaborate like Edward and I have, and I don't push to ask any more questions. I do, however, give Emmett a pointed glance when everyone else is preoccupied.

The Hopleaf is where I dropped him off our first night in Chicago, meaning he met her the same night I met Edward. _Fucking hypocrite._

My phone buzzes in my cardigan pocket and I reach into in to fish it out. I normally wouldn't take any calls or texts while with any of the Cullens, but I've been anxiously awaiting Jasper's update on Colombia.

Excusing myself, I walk back into the house and out the front door for some privacy.

I lean against my car, figuring it's far enough away from the house that no one can hear me.

"Hey, sorry." Jasper apologizes.

"It's ok, what's up?" I murmur, running my finger across my car window unthinkingly.

"Got the green light. Give me a few more days to get you a client."

"Client?"

"You'll know when you see them."

"Okay…" I drawl confused, but don't press any further. I trust Jasper to handle everything effectively.

"He's still mad isn't he?" He asks, taking my shortness to mean sadness. Which is partially true, but you can also never be too careful. I don't want anyone hearing something they aren't meant to.

"Yup..."

"Don't sweat it, Bells. He'll come around. It's Emmett."

"Yeah, I guess... I gotta go."

"I know." I hear the smirk in Jasper's voice. _Always watching, always listening._

I let out a small laugh. "Alright, creep. Call me later."

"Will do. Stop stressing yourself over about him, he's stuck with us for life... Bye, B. Love you."

"Me too."

I turn, smiling as I tuck my phone back into my pocket. When I come up to the door, instead of it being closed like I had left it, it's ajar. Emmett stands in between the foyer and I with a serious face.

"Yes?" I ask, sarcastic kindness oozing from my lips.

"Thought I'd check on you on my way to the restroom." He gruffs.

"Thanks, I'm fine. Old friend from Wyoming." I answer back, striding past him.

The rest of the evening continues with Emmett and I barely acknowledging each other. I know his curiosity is peaked, but he'll just have to wait on Jasper to give him an update.

"My place or yours?" Edward murmurs to me once we've said our goodbyes and are standing in between our cars.

I'm torn between not wanting Jasper to listen in on us and having to explain to Edward what happened with the broken picture frames that litter my living room floor.

I know Jasper doesn't listen in on the recordings when I'm at Edward's, and I've been pretty good about turning them off remotely when I'm there. But I still feel some embarrassment thinking about Jasper's face when he realizes there's a time gap in the recordings. He doesn't ask why I cut them off, and I never say anything about it.

Due to the progress I've made on our assignment, he's overlooked the... _advances_ Edward and I have had in our relationship. It's something we both just ignore, which I'm perfectly happy doing.

"Yours." I reply with a grin.

"I'll see you there." He gives me a parting kiss before hopping into his own car.

It's not until I've pulled out of the private road that my breathing has returned to normal.

It picks up again as I park my car, anticipating what's next.

_*line here*_

"I see you peeking!" Edward scolds playfully.

"Just hurry up and put it in!" I plead, eyes scrunched shut as I wait.

"Alright, alright..."

I moan as he fulfills my request. "God, that is _sooo_ good... Four cheese?"

"Five."

I open my eyes to a smirking Edward and a large ceramic bowl of gourmet mac and cheese in front of me.

"You certainly know the way to a girl's heart." I remark as he spoon feeds me another bite of the pasta.

"Apparently for you, that journey is through your stomach."

I scowl, but it's quickly gone as another forkful is placed in front of me.

"Just keep em comin', Cullen."

He laughs, but concedes.

"You could eat, too, you know." I offer after chewing.

"This seems like a better option that eating, right now."

As I wrap my mouth around another bite the front door dings.

I shoot up, chewing quickly to greet my unexpected customer.

"Hi, I'm..." I falter in my greeting, recognizing the girl in front of me. Charlotte Sinclair. My eyes grow wide and I freeze, not knowing if her being here is intentional or coincidental.

Charlotte and I used to be cubicle neighbors during my first year as an analyst before I got my cover office downtown.

She and I had become somewhat friendly shortly after. Our friendship, however, never left the office due to the fact that she dated Jasper before he was with Alice. I had already felt guilty for even liking the girl. Jasper insisted it was okay for me to be friends with her, saying that Alice would never hold it against me if she knew. He dated Charlotte while both Alice and I were in high school.

Of course, before I joined the Agency I believed Charlotte was a librarian, as did Alice. But I quickly realized she wasn't when I walked in to Langley on my first day to find her sitting right next to my new desk. Alice still thinks she is and none of us have told her otherwise.

Charlotte understands, even if we've never talked about it out loud, why I never asked her to come out for drinks with me or always declined to have dinner after work. She had met Alice on the various times Jasper took her to my parents' house and knows she is my best friend. But no one in their right mind could ever dislike Charlotte, so I have never held any resentment towards her for being Jasper's ex.

This must be the client Jasper was referring to, which I find extremely out of the norm... Charlotte prides herself on being an analyst, what is she doing out in the field?

"Marie Woods! Oh my god!" She squeals, quickly roping me into a tight hug. It takes me barely a second to catch on.

"Lily!" I gasp, the first name that pops in my head spilling out of me. "What are you doing here?" I cry out, squeezing her back.

"I had to see how my small-town girl was taking to the big city… And…" She giggles, lifting up her left hand, showing off a very large diamond on her ring finger.

I gasp again, "Oh my god! He finally did it!"

She laughs, hugging me again. I wince internally at how overly girly we look but I'm so completely lost and confused that I can only follow Charlotte's lead.

"I got your post card." She points to the shelf I have that showcases a few post cards that promote my flower shop. "I figured I'd offer you a job while I'm up here—William's brother lives in Aurora so I took a day trip up here.

"I know it's a long way from Wyoming to deliver flowers, but I'd like you to do all the flower plans if you're up for it? I just think about all the things we talked about when we were growing up and it'd be so perfect if you could be a part of the wedding even from all the way over here."

I smile big, taking her hand in mine and squeezing. "Of course! I'd absolutely love to."

Edward shifts slightly, which causes the chair to scrape an inch across the tile floor. He looks slightly embarrassed at interrupting our sentimental moment, offering a small grin as apology.

"Oh, Edward. This is Lily…"

Charlotte smiles brightly, extending a hand towards Edward. "Nice to meet you! Marie and I grew up in the same town and went to grade school together. She used to work at my parent's ranch taking care of the horses when we were in college."

Edward smiles at this new bit of information about me as Charlotte practically melts right on floor.

I roll my eyes and clear my throat, bringing her out of his spell that I'm all too familiar with.

Edward gives me a wink before turning back around to the table and putting a lid on the mac and cheese. "I should go. I'll see you tonight?"

"Yeah." I smile, reigning in my nerves.

Charlotte and I stand facing each other in silence until Edward walks out and the door closes behind him.

I lead her to the back room without a word, curiosity fully encompassing me now that I don't have to put up a charade for Edward.

"What are you doing here?" I ask again. For some reason, I find myself whispering this to her.

"It was sort of a last resort... A lot of people in the Agency aren't exactly jumping at the chance to take on a mission that they aren't given much information on. Especially after the bombings. Everyone is kind of walking on egg shells and taking low profile cases… This case is pretty much off the books so it's not like they can put up a sign-up sheet in the break room."

It makes sense. Kate and Charlie probably want a seasoned agent to work this case, and any agent worth pulling is probably in the position to turn down a case.

"And you just... volunteered as tribute?" I shrug, casually leaning my shoulder up against the wall.

Charlotte snorts at my joke. "No, silly. I uh, thought I'd help Jasper out..."

The look on her face tells me the reason why she's helping him.

I don't need to ask, I never have. It's always been evident to me that she still harbors feelings for my older brother. I'm thankful that she spares me the drama and hasn't ever admitted it to me.

"That's nice of you. Thanks, Char."

"Lily!" She corrects, pointing a finger at me jokingly.

"Right, _Lily_." I roll my eyes, correcting myself. "So what's the plan?"

"Well, Jasper told me that I _had_ to walk in at this specific time so that the mark's son would see me. I'm supposed to come back here in a few days, all frazzled and crying.

"Apparently I'm supposed to tell you I'm pregnant and need to push this wedding up to next week because my parents are super religious and don't believe in sex before marriage. Then once you calm me down I'm gonna ask you to come with me to the wedding because I need you there... And all of this _has_ to be done in front of the son."

"Sounds easy enough. When do we leave?"

"A week and a half from now... I'm sorry, Bella. I might have fucked this up and have to push the date farther out."

My face scrunches in confusion. "What? What are you talking about?"

"Well, we're gonna have to do this all over again. I swear Jasper told me this specific time. I read that report like a hundred times."

A handful of bricks settle into my stomach as I look back at Charlotte's worried face.

"Charlotte..."

She stops the nervous mumbling to herself, a habit she's had for years whenever she can't understand something. "Yeah?"

"That, uhm..." I look around the room for some help or a distraction from the impending judgment that Charlotte will have towards me. "That was the er, the... uh..." _Fuck, Bella, just say it already._ "That _was_ the mark's son."

Her eyes widen slowly as realization dawns on her. Adding to this comical look of surprise is the small 'o' shape her mouth forms as it pops open.

"Oh!... _Oh_... Ohhh."

Would this have been in any other context, I probably would have laughed at the different inflections of her voice on the same word. But Charlotte had walked in on Edward _feeding me,_ the two of us clearly comfortable enough with each other to do so. There was no sugar coating that shit. She knew what we were to each other.

I clear my throat, silently begging the Clematis flowers in the cooler to come to life and grow longer vines, pulling me away from this sickeningly awkward conversation.

"That's actually really clever." She finally says, arching an impressed eyebrow at me.

I inwardly breathe a sigh of relief before answering her. "I figured it was the only way to get close, you know? They're the 'keep to themselves' type."

"Yeah, that's really smart. Was that your idea or Kate's?" She chuckles.

"Uhm..." _This is just one awkward remark after another..._ "She doesn't know, actually. This has to stay between you, Jasper, and I. We can't risk the case, but I need to keep doing what I'm doing, it's the only way I've been able to make any progress."

She nods, understanding. "Of course. My lips are sealed... So I'll see you in a few days?"

"Yeah, that'd be good. You can stop by between now and then if you'd like."

"That's okay, my parents live in Chicago, remember?" She starts off cheerful, but by the end of her question I can see a twinge of sadness in the corner of her eyes.

I certainly do remember her and Jasper splitting the holidays with our families for the two years they dated while I was in high school. That's exactly why I had a questioned her being here accidental. "Oh, yeah that's right. Well I guess I'll see you in a few days. Remember, 12:30. That's the time he always comes over."

I walk her out and head back in to finish the rest of my orders, but the cell phone blasts _Carry on Wayward Son_ by Kansas from my back pocket.

"Sorry, I should have told you it was Charlotte I was sending, but it really _was_ last minute. It was just decided a few hours ago and I've been swamped with work."

"It's okay, I like Charlotte."

"Yeah, I knew I could trust her."

"Did she come to you about this or did you go to her?" I ask curiously.

"I went to her. I couldn't think of anyone else who would agree to it."

"Yeah, she'd do just about anything for you." I snort.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He exclaims defensively.

I roll my eyes at my ignorant brother. "Of course she'd agree. She's still not over you, and _you_ use that to your advantage. You always have."

" _What_? No I don't! It's been nearly ten years, Bella..."

"Trust me, time has done nothing to quell the wistful look that poor girl gets whenever your name is mentioned. And you _do_ take advantage. ' _Charlotte can you run these reports for me?_ ', ' _Hey, Char. Can you stay late tonight? I have plans with Alice._ ' ' _Oh, Char, can you run upstairs and scan those files down to me?_ '—"

"Alright, alright, alright!" Jasper howls, cutting me off. "I don't do it on purpose, I honestly never really noticed... She's always just been there."

"Yeah, but it's kinda hard to get over someone when they're always there. Especially since you requested her to be on your team. You guys spend every day together."

"Hey, I requested her because she's one of the best. That's the _only_ reason."

"Well, you should have asked how she felt about that. Having your wedding ring flashed around in her face constantly isn't a great feeling, I would imagine. Also adding to that, you're having a baby now… You never really gave her time to get over you breaking things off with her."

I hear a loud sigh come from the other side of the phone. "I'm such an asshole."

"Sometimes." I smirk. "Just see about transferring her when she gets back, I think it'll benefit her."

"Thanks, Bells. Good luck."

"Thanks, you, too. Bye Jazz."

_*line here*_

Charlotte comes in a few days later and does beautifully. She walks in a hot, crying mess, blubbering on about her religious parents while frantically waving her pregnancy test in my face.

" _Please_ , Marie. You have to help, I don't have a wedding planner and I'm in way over my head here. I can't have my parents find out about my pregnancy, they'll disown me—you know how they are!"

"It's okay, Lily. Calm down, I'll help. Don't you worry. We can move this wedding up to next week, find out some excuse to tell people about suddenly moving it up. It was only 6 months away, we can just call it a bridezilla moment, saying you changed your mind and want a fall wedding instead."

She nods, wiping away the runny mascara. "Yeah, yeah… We can do that. I've always been indecisive, anyway. Mom and Dad won't suspect anything, right?"

I smile and give her a comforting hug. Edward gives me a wide eyed, freaked out look from behind her. I chuckle and roll my eyes.

"Oh, Marie. I don't know what I would have done without you, you're an angel."

"What are friends for?" I jest.

"Would you?… Ugh, no… It's too much."

"What's wrong, Lily?" I implore, pulling back and looking into her sad brown eyes.

"Do you think you could come with me? Back home, where the wedding is. I know it's long ways away, but I would totally pay for your hotel and all expenses. I just need someone there like you, to keep me calm. I don't have many friends, you've honestly been the most help out of the few I have… And my parents love you. They would be thrilled to see you there."

I make sure to put on a very concerned look before replying, "Oh, I don't know, Lily. I have a lot going on here…"

"It'd just be a few days!" She presses.

I glance at Edward, who offers a sympathetic smile.

"I think I could manage being away for a few days." I smile reassuringly after taking a moment to think about it, cheering inwardly at how all of the pieces are falling in to place perfectly.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Thoughts? Reviews are so much love!**

 **Thank you all so much for the support and the 215 REVIEWS! Keep em coming!**

 **Up next - Colombia adventures! See you all in 2-3 weeks!**


	10. The Warehouse Debacle

**A/N:**

 **Hello lovelies! Sorry to be keeping you a week longer than expected, busy things. Thank you Kenz for editing, even when you're hungover!**

 **Don't want to keep you all waiting, enjoy!**

* * *

 **THE WAREHOUSE DEBACLE**

I might as well be alone. Emmett refuses to even so much as look at me the entire trip to the warehouse in Colombia.

We arrived around midnight and are now on our way to the abandoned bread factory. The car is dead silent, Emmett staring straight ahead as he drives, knuckles white on the wheel.

"Back up is on standby if you guys need any help or run into trouble." Jasper says over the Bluetooth, his voice dripping with seriousness.

I glance over at Emmett, who silently declines to acknowledge our brother. I guess he's still giving Jazz the silent treatment, too.

"Thanks, Jazz." I say shortly.

Emmett parks the car a half a mile away from the factory behind a random dumpster. Getting out, we silently make out way to our desired location.

We scout out the factory as we did with the Cullen home, sans our usual playful banter.

The warehouse is gated all the way around, with barbed wire lining the tops of the fence. The place has an eerie feel with the moon shining, casting shadows on the property and its accompanying vines that snake their way out of the broken windows. We find a pad locked gate near the back and Emmett gets to work on it.

"Look," I whisper, tired of the icy cold shoulder I am being given, "I get that you're still mad at me, but we're still partners. Can we at least act cordially towards each other?" I finish exasperated, waving my hands around.

He looks back, giving me a blank stare. "Pass me the bolt cutters... _please_." He dead pans.

I roll my eyes, reaching into the bag and hand them to him.

After I hear metal give from the pressure, Emmett pushes open the fence enough for us to get through, not without a few creaks and moans.

I open my mouth to say something smart when Em suddenly grabs my arm, pulling me behind a wooden crate.

He puts a hand over my mouth, silencing me. I scrunch my eyebrows in confusion and he tilts his head towards the front of the factory.

A few seconds later, I see headlights brightening the place where we had just been standing and turn. I hear the car circle around the factory before heading off again.

"We should wait and see if that's a coincidence or a routine security check." Em murmurs, letting go of my face.

We both sit and wait, and sure enough, thirty minutes later, the car approaches us before circling around the gated warehouse. We wait for two more rounds before deciding to take any action, just to get the exact time down.

I look at Em, who is scanning the rest of the area.

"You keep look out." I mutter and go to stand.

Emmett grabs me and pulls me down again, "No, _you_ keep look out. What if you run into someone?"

"Chances are, there's no security in there if they're patrolling the place with only one car—plus, it's abandoned. There's no need for top notch security. If you're out here and they decide to stop and take a look, you're stronger than me and can take them without having to use a gun, which means no unnecessary attention is drawn to us."

I really only want to go in there just to show Emmett that I'm capable of more than just being an analyst. Something I thought I had proven to him already, but apparently working over two years in the field with him means less than diddly.

He considers this for a moment before nodding his head. "Fine. But be quick—you have thirty minutes. If you trip an alarm they're probably less than that away from us."

I grab a flash light and a lock picking kit before heading towards the large wooden doors that make up the back entrance.

I run into another pad lock and huff before having to go back and grab the bolt cutters from Emmett, who insists he should handle it.

"I'm not some weak little girl, Emmett. I know how to use bolt cutters." I glower.

"Yeah, I know, I just—forget it." He grumbles, shaking his head.

Once the lock is open, I make my way quietly into the warehouse, closing the door behind me.

The roof is littered with wide windows, allowing the full moon's light to shine through enough for me to see without having to use the flashlight.

I look around and see nothing but empty conveyer belts and hundreds of large wooden crates. I'm in what appears to be the main room, which allows access to many other side rooms.

Making sure there aren't any cameras or motion sensors I can trip, I silently move to the first room on my right, only to find nothing but boxes of blackened and molded bread.

I scout out a few more rooms, trying to find an office of some sort but am only met with more large wooden crates. Overcome with curiosity, I use a metal rod to pry one of the boxes open to take a peek, using my flashlight to illuminate the contents.

 _Well this is definitely not sourdough,_ I say to myself.

Inside this particular crate is what looks to be kilos of cocaine, all packaged in tight Saran wrap and duct tape. The box stands about five feet high and maybe four feet wide. There has got to be tens of thousands of dollars' worth of drugs in here, maybe even hundreds.

I pry open a few more crates— as suspected, they contain the same neatly packed cocaine in them.

Leaving the crates to go scout out the rest of the rooms, I shoot Emmett a text letting him know what I found.

Near the entrance, I run into a steel door with a key code lock. I reach in my cargo pants and fish out a small code grabber Jasper left me.

I lean against the door, waiting for the grabber to figure out the four-digit passcode. As I'm waiting I hear the crunch of paper a few feet behind me. Out of instinct I quickly retract my gun from my waistband and point it in the direction of the noise as I turn on my flashlight.

I see nothing but hear the crunching again. Lowering my flashlight, I see the culprit—a rather large rat going to town on a molded newspaper.

"Thanks, pal." I whisper to the little guy, annoyed at how he's made my heart race.

The code grabber finally figures out the code and I type it in. The door clicks softly and I push it open.

I use a tiny scrap of stray wood to prop the door open just enough to not allow it to close behind me.

It's pitch black in the room, so I assume there must be no windows here. I turn on my flashlight again and see there are rows and rows of shelves in this room, all filled with stacks of paper. There are also large stacks of paper littering the floor.

I approach the shelf nearest to me and realize that this isn't normal run of the mill paper. The entire room—which has to be the size of my apartment back in Chicago—is overflowing with crisp, hundred dollar bills. By now, I deduce that this must be a stash house.

I spot a filing cabinet in the far corner and have to step over piles of money to get to it.

The cabinet is padlocked, but I still have the bolt cutters Emmett used earlier in case I ran into this problem again.

The padlock, not having grass to quiet the fall, makes a loud thud as it hits the cement floor. I still, listening intently for any sign of movement outside the room. When I hear none, I open the first drawer.

I find nothing but balance sheets and income statements, but I don't have time to read through these thoroughly. I grab as many as I can and tuck them underneath my arm. I reach to open the second cabinet when the door creeks open.

I drop my flashlight and the files from surprise and jump back against the cabinet, my gun aimed at the door.

From the floor, the flashlight only illuminates the room enough to see a shadow—which outlines a tall, muscular man standing at a familiar height.

I breathe out a sigh of relief, "Jesus fucking Christ, Emmett. You scared the shit out of me."

I lower my gun and turn back to the filing cabinet, distractedly putting it back into my waistband. He ignores me, apparently still not talking to me even after we agreed to be amicable.

"What happened to keeping look out? I don't need you to babysit me in here, you know." I mutter distractedly as I sift through more of the papers.

I'm reading the title of a statement when I feel an arm come around my neck and tighten. My hands reach up quickly and try to pull off the arm.

I try to breathe in, but am only able to take a half breath. The scent my nose picks up is one of stale cigarettes and very expensive smelling cologne—both of which I've never smelled on my brother.

I push back against the body and as we crash into some shelves I jerk my elbow back as hard as I can, causing the man to loosen his grip. I take advantage of this by using his brute strength against him and pull on the arm while bending my body forward, effectively tossing him over me. He lands on his back with a loud thud and a grunt.

I run towards the door, reaching for my gun but he grabs onto my foot. My head hits the door handle on my way down, but that does not slow me down.

I kick back my free leg forcefully, feeling my foot connect with something hard. I hear another groan and my leg goes free.

I quickly stand and realize I've lost my gun in the scuffle. I don't make it but a few feet out the door before a large body slams into me effectively knocking me back down.

My breath rushes out of me as I hit the ground. I fight to push him off but he's too heavy, using his weight to keep me immobilized.

He flips me onto my back, unaware of the fact that he isn't dealing with some pathetic little damsel in distress who can't hold her own. I throw a punch, which manages to make contact with his chin and he lets out another satisfying grunt.

He grabs a hold of my neck with his beefy, oversized hands and shakes me vigorously as he squeezes.

Stars materialize in my eyes as he continues to aggressively choke me. He doesn't loosen his grip. After a few seconds, I realize he has no intention to.

My arms are useless as they squirm underneath the knees that hold them down. I writhe under his weight violently, trying to buck him off me.

Out of the corner of my eye I see something catch in the moonlight. _My gun_. I stretch for it but it's a few inches too far from my reach.

I'm starting to lose energy as my body uses the last of it's oxygen. I jerk one last time, hoping the force of it will bring me close enough to my gun.

I look back up to the man, making sure he doesn't see my end goal, but he is too focused on not letting go of me.

My fingers graze the grip of the gun and I use my nails to drag it closer to me.

The stars turn into spots of white and as my hand closes around the handle firmly I'm faced with a decision I have never had to make before.

 _His life or mine._

I choose mine.

I pretend that I'm at the last of my life and stop struggling, his knees give up a little on my arms and I take advantage of that by slipping my arm from underneath one.

I swiftly bring the gun up under his chin and pull the trigger.

When I was younger, my father used to take my brother and I on hunting trips twice a year. Once during bow season, and once during rifle season.

 _My first hunting trip happened to be during rifle season. Emmett and I were twelve and we were ecstatic about finally being able to join Jasper and Charlie._

 _Before I held the rifle in my own hands, Charlie sat us all down. My brothers and I sat outside on rocks as we watched him clean his rifle._

" _Now I've already told Jasper this, but a refresher is always good—especially when dealing with something as serious as a gun." He said solemnly. "When you're holding a gun, you hold all the power. It's up to you on how you use that power. When you pull that trigger, you better make sure you damn well mean it. Once you take a life—any life_ — _you can't take that back…_

 _We_ _ **do**_ _**not**_ _kill for sport. We kill to eat. Whatever we don't eat we give to_ _a family in need. Understood?"_

 _I remember Emmett and I nodding our heads excitedly, our twelve-year-old minds not quite understanding what he meant—too eager to get out there._

Even after my first deer kill, I never really understood the wisdom behind his words. I _thought_ I did—but looking back, I didn't even have a fraction of an idea of what he meant.

Now?... Now I fully grasped what he had told to us. It's like everything he said finally clicked, like the sound the trigger makes when clicking into place—but you never really hear it over the blaring gun shot. No lecture in the world could have prepared me for this. No amount of gun training classes that I had to sit through when I became a field agent could have readied me for this moment.

I've been lucky enough to have never had to take a life during my time in the field. Sure, I've shot my gun plenty of times, but I've never shot to kill.

I know this man is a criminal, a ruthless henchman for some crime boss who has probably taken countless lives. But he will never feel the cold, firm grip of metal handcuffs as they tighten around his wrists. He will never see a courtroom, or hear the pounding of a gavel against wood as the judge calls the verdict that sentences him to time he deserves. I've robbed him of that experience—of the basic human right to due process.

I feel his body lift off me and I scramble backwards on my hands, getting as far away from him as possible. When my back hits a wooden crate I draw my knees up.

Looking down, I see I'm drenched in blood—his blood. I start hyperventilating, my mind racing with images of a family who has lost a father, a brother, or a son. An empty chair at a dinner table as a wife weeps, waiting for a husband that will never return.

My shoulders shake and it takes me a minute to figure out I'm not the one controlling them.

I look up and my eyes focus on concerned brown eyes that are identical to mine. The ringing in my ears quiets enough for me to hear a voice.

"Bella… Bella…. _Bella_? Are you okay? Are you hurt?" Emmett's anxious voice is heard over the dull noise.

My rapid breathing does not allow me to form words, so I just stare at him with a wide, panicked eyes.

I feel warm liquid travel down my face and reach up to touch it. My hand is covered in blood, but I can't tell who's it is. My vision starts to darken around the edges as my breathing picks up tenfold.

I wouldn't know—never having had one up until now—but this must be what a panic attack feels like.

Emmett picks me up effortlessly and I know he's talking, but the ringing has increased to an earsplitting blaring.

Hours go by, or maybe it's minutes—I can't tell—when I hear more than one voice near me.

I blink and my eyes refocus on what I'm seeing. There are about a dozen black cars, all surrounding the building. I'm sitting on top of the hood of a black SUV, a blanket has been placed around me.

Near the back entrance, I spot Emmett talking to a short man in a dark blue jacket. He's facing away from me so I can't see his face, but I can see the large yellow letters that say _POLICIA_ on his jacket.

Emmett looks up and meets my eyes, saying something to the officer before walking over to me.

"Bells?" He asks once he reaches me, putting a hand on my shoulder.

I still can't find my voice, so I just nod shakily.

Another man approaches Emmett and I, introducing himself as James Hunt. He's taller than the guy Em was talking to earlier. He has mustard yellow blonde hair, pale skin, and isn't wearing a dark blue jacket so I assume he works for the Agency.

"We've identified the man in the warehouse as Marcus Volturi. We ran his prints and got a hit from when he was around eighteen and was arrested for car theft in Italy. We were lucky he's the only one in the Volturi family with any record."

" _Holy shit_ …. That was one of the Volturi brothers? What was he doing around here?" Emmett questions, bewildered.

"This looks to be one of their main stash houses. So far, the Agency and Colombian Police have gathered millions of dollars' worth of drugs. They haven't even touched the rooms locked up with money in it… I assume that's why one of the brothers was out here. This'll be a big loss for the Volturi. You guys did good work out here."

I'm repulsed by the fact that I'm being complimented for taking a life, no matter how evil. I can only think about what the higher ups are going to say about this. They probably won't even ask for the paperwork on this… I might even get a promotion.

Bile rises in my throat and I find myself unable to control my body as I hurl. I feel Em gently hold my hair away from my face as I heave the contents of my stomach onto the grass.

"Is she okay?" I hear James say, slight disgust in his tone.

"Yeah, she's fine. She just inhaled some of that mold in there, doesn't feel too good." Em replies shortly.

"What were you guys doing out here anyway?"

 _How the fuck can you still ask questions when you're watching someone vomit right in front of you?_

"Need to know."

"Ah, gotcha… Well, I'm sure your boss is happy... What were your names again?"

Emmett doesn't reply to this, but from the disappearing of James' feet from my view, I gather that he got the hint he's no longer needed.

I straighten up once I have nothing left in me, wiping my face with the back of my hand.

"Come on," Emmett murmurs softly, "let's get you out of here."

I blink and find myself sitting on the couch in my hotel room. I can't remember the drive here or how I got up to my room. I try to remember being in a car at all, but my mind is still hazy.

I hear water running somewhere, but can't find it in me to go see where it's coming from.

"Bella…?"

I look up to see Emmett kneeling in front of me, eyeing me like a scared, cornered pup.

A reply forms in my head but doesn't reach my lips.

"Your head needs a couple stitches, I'm gonna patch you up, okay?" He holds up a needle and some surgical suture.

I nod my head, silently giving him the okay.

He opens up a first aid kit on the table next to me and goes to work cleaning up my wound. He's known I have an allergy to anesthetic for years now, but he still offers me a sympathetic look and an apology before he starts stitching me up. I don't feel a thing.

Once done, he gets up and picks me up without a word, walking me over to the bathroom and setting me down gently on the tile, making sure I have my balance before letting go.

"I'll be right outside, okay?" He offers soothingly.

Waiting on the sound of a door closing, I begin peeling off my blood-stained clothes.

I don't have the strength to stand, so I sit in the shower, and watch as the water washes away the grime and blood, circling the drain as the evidence disappears.

I can't understand how murderers live with themselves after killing an innocent person. I'm utterly disgusted with myself, even knowing Marcus Volturi deserved what came to him. I saw no hesitation in his eyes as he choked the life out of me, only determination.

I killed to survive, while his goal was to avoid the loss of drug money and to keep his family's criminal empire thriving. I was just an obstacle to him, not a real person. He would have easily stepped over my body and dumped me somewhere, forgetting I ever existed within minutes. The thought shakes me to my core.

Once I feel my skin pruning and the water turn cold, I step out of the shower on unsteady legs and put on the clothes Emmett's laid out for me on the counter.

I open the bathroom door to find Emmett sitting on the bed, talking into his cellphone with a hushed voice. Once he sees me he ends the call and tucks me into bed, much like our mother used to when we were children.

"Will you stay with me?" I whisper, my voice coarse.

He looks down at me as tears pool in my eyes, worry etched all over his face. "Of course."

As he settles down next to me, I lay my head on his chest and he wraps an arm around my shoulder.

We lay like that for a long time before my thoughts can no longer keep themselves confined in the walls of my mind.

"Does it always… Feel like this?" I rasp.

"Yes. But you learn to stomach it over time… Find a way to lock those feelings away."

"I'm sorry..."

"For what?"

"I never fully appreciated what you did for me—never really thought twice about it until now. In our past missions when we've been forced to take someone down, you've always been the one to pull the trigger. I always just thought you were quicker than I was, because you already had the experience."

"I was trying to spare you from this feeling. I'm always going to try to protect you from what this cruel world has to world offer, Bella."

I stay silent, thinking of a way to apologize for the vile words I threw at him last week. I can't form any words to excuse myself for how I reacted.

Emmett's soft snores interrupt me from my thoughts. I close my eyes, promising to make proper amends tomorrow morning.

* * *

 _"… There were no survivors, police confirm... Third bombing today... As we mourn the loss of so many law enforcement officials..."_

I turn over and open my heavy lids, taking a moment to remember where I am.

Emmett stars at the TV screen somberly as he shovels oatmeal into his mouth. My stirring causes him to glance back at me.

"Shit's hitting the fan everywhere since last night..." He mutters, turning back to the TV.

I stand and go to sit closer to hear what's going on. Emmett taps my shoulder, holding up a warm bowl of oatmeal. I take it, but don't eat any—my appetite still eluding me.

Focusing on the TV, I see a news reporter standing a few hundred feet away from a building that's in ruins. There are still some fire fighters working to put out the last of the flames. The news blurb below her flashes black and red.

 _ **THIRD TERRORIST BOMBING TODAY: CIA SURVEILLANCE BUILDING IN KEY WEST, FLORIDA.**_

The channel changes before I can hear what she has to say and another news reporter appears before me.

"… Police are still sifting through the wreckage for any evidence of what caused the explosion. The SWAT van had nine men riding in it when the attack occurred. There were no survivors... "

Again, the channel changes and I become aware it's Emmett who's clicking through them.

"… No news yet on the terrorist attack on a Homeland Security office in New York. Police have confirmed fourteen dead and six injured. No terrorist group has come forth to claim the attack, law enforcement officials are still narrowing down the suspects—"

"It started a few hours after we took down that stash house." Emmett murmurs as he mutes the TV, "The media is going crazy, throwing names around of the people they think are responsible for this. But we already know who it is."

"Aro Volturi." I affirm.

He nods his head once, "It's a message."

He doesn't need to explain further. I already know what that message is. Aro is telling everyone to back the fuck off—angry over the loss of his brother and his money. He wants to show everyone what he is capable of if we keep after him.

"Is this just in the US?" I ask.

"Couple low coverage attacks in Colombia, but they're shits all sorts of fucked up that the news reporters are scared to report much. The warehouse might have been on Colombian soil but the Volturi some how know it was Americans who lead that raid. We're the only ones he wants to intimidate. Everyone else doesn't have shit on him so he doesn't need to make a statement.

A few years ago, the Italians busted a few of his boys—they weren't high up or anything—bunch of drug dealers and low-level pimps. Aro still retaliated, killing the police officers that made the arrest. He thinks he's untouchable."

Our conversation is interrupted by Emmett's phone ringing. I half expect it to be Rosalie, but when he answers I can tell it is Jasper who's called from his short tone.

He holds the phone up to his ear for a few moments before hanging up the call without a goodbye. I can see the events that have transpired over the last twelve hours still haven't gotten him to forget Jasper not telling him about Edward and I.

"We have a mole." Emmett growls.

" _What?_ " I gasp.

"That CIA office in Key West that listens in to Cuba? No one knows where it is. You would only know if you work for the Agency. Which means someone fed the location to the Volturi."

I rest my head in my hands, trying to work through this new development.

"There are only a handful of people who know what we're working on right now, Bella. Out of those, two are family. Kate's the third, but I'd trust that woman with my life and anyone else she brought into that room. No one knows about us. If you want to pull out of the mission now, I wouldn't blame you—"

"No!" I blurt, interrupting him. I shrink back, a little embarrassed of my outburst. "I'm not leaving you alone and I'm not backing out now. I'm not scared of the Volturi."

He studies me for a moment before going to pack up his things.

Edward still believes I'm in Wyoming with Angela setting up her wedding. I'm supposed to arrive later today back home.

I walk into the bathroom to brush my teeth and change. The woman that looks back at me in the mirror isn't Isabella Swan. She looks like a feeble, scared, and utterly beaten woman. She stares back at me with bloodshot eyes. Her neck sporting bright, red scratch marks that adorn the deep, purple bruises. She has matching bruises all along her upper arms and a stitched up gash on the side of her head.

One word comes to my mind as I examine her. _Weak._

I hastily turn away from her in mild disgust, not wanting to look any longer. I dress quietly, avoiding the mirror and anything else reflective.

I make sure to put a scarf on and pull my baseball cap low on my head before heading out with Emmett to the airport.

I break my promise of making amends with him. Seeing my reflection in the mirror brought all the memories of last night rushing back to the forefront of my mind. I don't want Emmett to see I'm still being affected by it, so I play tired and pretend to sleep during the car ride.

"I'll see you tomorrow." I mutter as Emmett hands me my duffle bag.

Bringing up the fact that I'll see him at Rosalie's birthday party has Emmett looking bitter again. I can tell he's still upset with me, too. Jasper and I are going to have some trouble getting through to him.

I take a Tylenol PM before the plane takes off to help with my headache and fall asleep in minutes.

I arrive at my apartment in Chicago late in the evening. The sun has started to set, making my apartment appear darker.

After I hurriedly turn on all the lights, I double check the windows are locked and place a chair in front of my front door, fastening it under the knob.

I look around at my apartment and feel completely out of place. It's quiet, but the furniture glares back at me accusingly, as if to tell me I don't belong here.

Feeling my breathing pick up, I rush to the bathroom to start a bath in my clawfoot tub, pouring in some Epsom salt for my sore muscles.

Once the water reaches the top, I step in to the warm, welcoming water.

I draw my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around my legs, resting my head on them as sob after sob rips out of me.

I lose control of my mind, the barrier I had put up to hold myself together long enough to make it through the airport has completely disintegrated.

Flashes of Marcus as he stares down at me, choking me as I squirm utterly helpless, race across my mind. My lungs constrict as if he's still holding me down.

I cry until my eyes run dry and the water turns ice cold. When my breathing calms and my sobs turn to whimpers, I stare at the stark white tiles on the wall, finding little patterns in the cracks.

Outside of the bathroom, I hear my phone go off but don't move. I stay in my safe haven. I know if I step out of the tub, the breakdown that follows will be the worst one yet.

I close my eyes and daydream about what my night would have looked like if I hadn't been so stubborn and let Emmett search the warehouse. He's much stronger than I am and would have come out unscathed.

I picture a different conversation with James Hunt, one where I'm not bent over dry heaving. I imagine myself stitching up Emmett as he makes playful banter at me and we rejoice about the bust we made together, our fight long forgotten and apologies exchanged.

* * *

 _Thump, thump, thump... "Marie?" … Thump, thump, thump._

I jolt awake, looking around to see I fell asleep in the bathtub. Goose bumps riddle my skin as I shiver from the cold water.

I stare out through the bathroom door, towards the source of the thumping.

"Marie? Are you in there? I haven't heard from you... I'm getting worried." Edwards voice carries over to me, filled with concern.

There's no way in hell he can see me like this.

I shrink back into the water, leaving only my eyes peeking above it, as if Edward has some super human power that allows him to see through the door—but apparently not through an acrylic tub.

He pounds at the door for a few more minutes before giving up and leaving.

I let out a sigh of relief, causing the water to ripple around me. My shudders get a bit more violent, so I drain the tub and fill it once more with scalding hot water. I do this every few hours—when I can no longer stand the cold, waking up a quivering mess while I wait to become warm again.

When sunlight filters in through the bathroom window, I argue with myself about getting out or not. I don't want to get hypothermia or start developing sores on my skin, so I drain the tub, meeting my subconscious half way and not staying submerged in water.

It takes another few hours for me to hurry out of the tub and change quickly. I snatch a pillow and blanket off my bed, sprinting back to the tub, but not before I grab a tub full of muffins sitting on my kitchen island.

I settle back into my safe haven, wrapping the blanket around me and appeasing my loud, rumbling stomach with a blueberry muffin.

I'm very well aware that at some point, I will need to not only leave the security of my tub, but my apartment entirely. For now, I'm content with convincing myself that I can stay here forever, never dealing with what lies outside of my bathroom door. Never having to fill out a statement and complete paperwork as you do every time you shoot your gun. Not having to deal with any Agency psychologists, or lying to the Cullen's, or the aftermath of the Volturi attacks.

I have full control over my life from this small, confined white space. I have all the power here. _I feel strong here._

I fall asleep after devouring the muffin, unbothered by the flower shop or any outstanding orders I have there.

My stomach wakes me sometime later in the day and I reach for another muffin— _okay maybe I reached for two._

I'm biting into my second muffin when I hear a knock at my door. I stop midbite and gaze out through the living area.

"Marie, it's Edward." _Knock, knock._

I look back at the bathroom window and see that the sky is beginning to darken. _Shit, Rosalie's birthday party._

"Marie, I know you're in there. I checked with the airline. You made your flight and it arrived on time. Your neighbor also heard you come in yesterday."

I wrap my blanket tighter around me as I scowl at the door. Of course he'd check.

"Did I do something to upset you?... I'm sorry for whatever I did, Marie. Please, just talk to me."

It pulls at my heartstrings to hear him sound so crestfallen.

But I can't open that door. I can't let him see me like this. As I was running back to the bathroom I caught sight of myself in the mirror. It's as if the bruises are worse today—almost black in color now.

This time it takes him longer to give up and walk away. He doesn't keep knocking, doesn't say anything else, but I can see the shadow of his feet in the tiny crack between the door and floor.

I close my eyes after the shadows leave, welcoming the numbness of sleep.

 _My feet pound on the cement floor as I run down the empty hall filled with locked_ _doors. I'm out of breath, but I keep going, not wanting the man behind me to catch up._

 _I try one last door, pounding my fists against it, begging anyone who can hear_ _to let me in._

 _The man grabs me and effortlessly pulls me back. I crash into the wall behind me, falling to the ground._

 _He climbs over me, his big hands closing over my throat as I stare up helplessly._

 _Marcus looks down at me as I struggle to breathe, his lip curled in disgust as his evil eyes stare down at me, not letting go._

I'm stunned awake by a shrill scream, out of breath as my body tremors violently. I cover my mouth and discover the scream had been my own.

A sob tears out of my chest as tears run down my already wet cheeks.

Quickly shedding my clothes, I dump the blanket and pillow out of the tub before I can lose any more control.

I watch as the hot water embraces me once more, taking me in and keeping me safe from Marcus.

Just like that, I'm back to square one. Soaking in the water until it turns to ice and refilling the tub ever few hours. I don't close my eyes anymore—Not wanting to see what the darkness behind my eyelids hold.

I don't know how long I do this for, not paying attention to the brightness or darkness that filters in through the window, but when my hunger becomes insatiable and I reach for a muffin I find it to be stale.

When my muscles begin to get sore I drain the water again but don't turn on the faucet, instead opting to gladly accept the shivers that run down my spine from the bitter chill of the air around my wet skin.

I hear the lock on my front door click, followed by a knock.

"Bella... It's me. I'm coming in." Emmett calls from the other side.

The chair scrapes against the hard wood floor. Em manages to get the door open just a sliver. He peeks in, looking for me.

"Bella? Can you let me in please?"

I stay cuddled in my safe haven, not acknowledging him.

I hear the chair scrape again, a loud smack follows. I look over and see the chair on the ground, but the thick door chain doesn't allow Emmett access in.

"Bella, please. I will break down this door if I have to. Everyone's worried about you."

I tighten my arms around my knees and tuck my head into them. _Go away._

The noisy bang that comes from my living room alerts me that Emmett did in fact break down my door.

"Damn it!" He cries.

A warm blanket drapes over me as Emmett picks me up.

"Fuck, Bells. Why didn't you call me? I didn't know it was this bad."

"I'm fine." I wheeze through my sobs.

"You've been holed up in your bathtub for four days. I'm sure Webster doesn't have this listed under the definition of 'fine'."

He lays me down gently on my couch before walking away and bringing back a T-shirt and shorts for me. He turns away, letting me have my privacy as I put on my clothes.

Once I'm done, he sits down next to me, slowly as if not to scare me away.

"Bells?" He says tentatively.

"Hmm?"

"You have to talk to someone. I'm not saying you have to talk to me, but you can't keep this all in. It's not good for you, trust me. I know how you feel."

I slide my eyes over to him, unable to keep the scowl off my face.

Emmett has never been in a situation where he is at a disadvantage. He's never felt helpless. He can probably count the times someone's gotten a punch in on him with one hand.

He looks back at me sympathetically, "I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about feeling helpless—out of control... You resent yourself for letting your guard down, or not fighting back hard enough. You blame yourself for being put in that situation."

My scowl softens as my eyes water. I lean my head against his shoulder and he puts his arm around me, tucking me into his side.

"I was weak." I whimper.

"No, you weren't. You were caught off guard." He asserts firmly.

"You weren't there. I wasn't caught off guard, I _let_ my guard down because I was stupid."

"I've seen you take on much more than him, and you always come out on top. Everyone makes mistakes."

"I could have shot him when I still had my gun in my hand when he came up behind me, maybe wounded him enough to stop..."

"I'm sure he wouldn't have stopped until you were dead. People like him never do."

"I should have let you go in. I should have kept look out."

"I'm sorry I let you go in there, Bells."

"It's not your fault, I just wanted to show you I'm strong enough to take these kinds of things on."

"You did show me. I would have made the same decision if it had been me. You're an amazing agent, don't ever sell yourself short. No matter what anyone says." I can see by the look in his eyes he's talking about what _he_ said to me.

What happened with Marcus has hit me especially hard because things like this never happen to me. Becoming a field agent was probably the best decision I made—it made me feel worth so much more.

I've always been a step ahead of the enemy, I've always been exceptional at my job. I know my father being who he is has helped me progress a little faster than most, but _I've_ gotten myself this far. No one in the Agency can deny that I'm the best at what I do.

Killing Marcus felt horrible, but what really shook me was being at the mercy of my mark. It's going to take a lot longer to get over that feeling of helplessness than it will take getting over taking that vile man's life. Emmett's assurances have started to help, and I know the rest will be up to me.

We sit in silence and again I can't formulate the words to apologize to my brother. I feel ashamed. I know I need to apologize soon, but bringing it up will only remind me of what a terrible sister I am.

"You need to see someone." Emmett insists. "A professional. I'm serious—it will help. I was so stubborn and didn't see one, thinking that only the weak sit and talk about their feelings. I bottled that shit up for a long time until I couldn't take it anymore. Talking to someone, even for a few sessions, it really helps. Maybe schedule a few phone call sessions with a psych... I promise, once you talk to someone, you won't feel helpless—you'll feel better."

I sniff and wipe my nose. When I see it's going to take much more than the back of my hand to clean my face, I reach over for a tissue.

A figure in my doorway catches my eye and I look up.

A pair of eyes, wide with surprise, gaze back at me.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Cliffies are my guilty pleasure... ;)**

 **What do you think is going to happen? Have Bella and Emmett been made? Let me know all your thoughts! Your reviews are so lovely.**

 **** _If we break 350 reviews this week, I promise to update in less than two weeks!_**

 **I've actually created a Facebook Group for TBK, where I'm posting teasers of upcoming chapters and updates on my writing. Feel free to join, Trainwreque Tales ! **

**I'll see you all soon, don't let your thoughts wonder off too much!**


	11. The Rosalie Debacle

**A/N: Been a while huh? Well, thanks for sticking with me. As promised, I am finishing this story. I'm sorry to keep all you lovely people waiting, I just went through a very rough patch months back. I was unemployed for a few months, I became uninspired and started hating everything I wrote and was really hard on myself. But I'm back and feeling myself again!**

 **Thank you, as always, to my amazing beta, kenz. I appreciate everything you do and for sticking with me!**

 **Ok I won't keep y'all waiting any longer, I'll let you get to it... See you at the bottom!**

* * *

 **THE ROSALIE DEBACLE**

"Liam?"

Emmett and I stare at Rosalie like two deer caught in very bright, _very_ fast, oncoming headlights.

"Rose?"

I pull away from Emmett and stand, casting a nervous glance at him before speaking. "Uhm, Liam came to check up on me cause he heard everyone was worried…"

"I see…" Rosalie murmurs, her curious eyes roaming around at the mess in my apartment. She then looks up at me, surveying the bruises and gashes on my body—coming to her own conclusions, I assume, by the look on her face.

"How do you know where Marie lives?" She asks, narrowing her eyes slightly at Emmett.

He doesn't miss a beat. "Oh, Marie mentioned she lives in this building when she came by for some coffee the other day. I just asked a few tenants here which apartment was hers when I got here."

She takes a few steps towards me, and for the first time since we've met, her face shows something more than indifference. She stops a few feet from me, leaning in to get a closer look at me. "What happened?"

I look around, silently begging for an answer to come to me.

A warm hand envelops mine and I instantly jump, startled by the contact. When I finally locate the source of the foreign heat, I realize that it is none other than Rosalie's.

"Liam can I… Can I have a minute with Marie? Please." She asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

Emmett's eyebrows shoot up, but he doesn't protest. "Yeah, sure. I um, I have to get back to work anyways. I'm on break. If you girls need anything I'm only a few blocks away."

He returns the fallen chair to it's previous upright position before walking out. It does nothing to help the fuck cluster that my apartment has turned into, but he gives me a sympathetic, _Sorry, that's all I could do_ look as he closes the door behind him.

Rosalie motions for me to sit back down, and only because I am too confused to do much else, I oblige.

She walks to my kitchen, opening a few cabinets before finding the desired one, and grabs two tea cups. "Do you have any tea?"

I nod my head and point towards the black jar by the stove.

Emptying out the teapot in the sink, she fills it with fresh water before placing it on the stove.

We both wait in what feels to be the most excruciatingly awkward silence as the water comes to a boil, avoiding each other's curious gazes.

She brings over the two tea cups, placing one in my cold hands. It's not until I'm halfway through with my tea that she speaks.

"Is he coming back?"

I look up from my cup, finding Rosalie staring back at me with an expression I can't quite put my finger on.

"No." Is all I am able to manage. I want to add 'he's dead', but I'm sure that would raise a few questions.

"You never see it coming do you?" She asks in a soft, almost nurturing, tone. One I have never heard her use, or even thought she was capable of quite frankly. I quickly avert my eyes as I realize where this conversation is going and what Rosalie believes has happened to me. I should have known that this is what it looked like to her. "I mean you probably do, but you lie to yourself. You ignore all the signs. And after a while you start to make excuses, convincing yourself you deserve it. Luckily for me, it didn't take long to wake the fuck up."

I take another sip of tea to keep my hands and mouth occupied, soaking up the warmth from the tea and the weight of her words.

Rose lets out an annoyed sigh and I can physically see how hard it is for her to open up to someone, much less be anything other than apathetic towards me.

"You, um... You don't have to keep going, Rosalie. I know it's hard." I offer softly.

Her lip twitches on one side slightly. "You're not the first person this has happened to, that's all I'm trying to say. Liam was right in your needing to talk to someone..."

My eyes grow wide as I look in disbelief back at her, assuming I understand her meaning.

"No, not me." She rolls her eyes at the thought of us having a heart to heart. "I have someone I can refer you to. He's a psychologist here in town."

I nod my head in relief at not having to lie to Rosalie. It's one thing to have someone just _believe_ what they want to, it's a whole other fucked up situation to sit here and lie about it to someone who has clearly gone through something much worse.

"Does Edward know?"

"No." I give her a look that lets her know I don't want him to.

"I understand. Liam doesn't either."

We sit in the comfort of each other's silence. When I'm nearly done with my tea I look up at Rosalie. She has a distance in her eyes, a troubled look… One that screams of nostalgia.

 **ROSALIE POV**

 _1 year ago…_

I'm jolted awake by the sound of glass shattering.

Looking over at the empty space beside me on the bed, I realize Royce is already out of bed. Ignoring the nagging feeling of fear bubbling in my stomach, I slip on my robe and walk out of the hotel room.

"Royce?" I call out softly, my mind quieting my voice as it unconsciously runs through the worst possible scenarios.

I find Royce on the floor next to a broken bottle of Glenlivet, chuckling to himself. When he spots me across the small living room, his glassy eyes roam over me as he gives me a timid smile.

Breathing in relief, I rush over to him, taking his hands in mine and examining them.

"Are you okay? What happened?"

"Just a little slip, that's all… _Roooseee_ …" Royce sings my name with a goofy grin on his face that suddenly turns sinister. "Is that even your real name?"

I raise my eyebrows in surprise as he turns over a hand and grips my wrist tighter than is comfortable. "Of course, it is. Why would you even ask that?"

"You keep other secrets from me… Why not that, too?" He asks as he narrows his eyes. A tiny flicker of a thought rushes through the back of my mind. _He's not as drunk as he's playing at._

"Those are my family's secrets I keep. They are not mine to tell. We've had this conversation before, Royce."

He lets out a petulant sigh, snatching his hands away from me and turning his back on me. I watch as he rips open the small mini fridge and grabs a bottle of champagne, struggling to open it.

"I'm sick of this, Rose, or whatever the fuck your name is—"

"—I've told you, it's Rosalie." I interrupt him, my voice unyielding as we glare daggers at each other.

"I'm tired of this sneaking around bullshit, spending a few days here and there shacked up in some fucking hotel. Hiding from the world, not being able to walk out in public with you." He shakes the Cristal, growing more irritated with it's unwillingness to open.

"I told you, we have to wait! I can't tell my family yet, I need to wait for the right time to—"

"WHEN ROSE?" Royce roars at me, his hazel eyes now filled with a frenzied rage I've never seen before. "It's been a whole fucking year!" He throws his hands up, silently showcasing the expensive champagne, and the luxurious hotel room… The reason why we're even in a place like this to begin with.

Our one-year anniversary.

He stalks over to me, slamming the bottle onto the coffee table before taking my face roughly in between his hands.

Before tonight, this would have been very much welcomed. Before tonight, these same hands would have been passionately rough, not filled with anger and resentment. But right now, all I can feel is fear. His hands are too brusque, his eyes too hard.

"You told me weeks ago today was going to be the day. You told me you were ready to tell them."

"I—I know… I just…" I clench my eyes shut, not wanting to tell him the truth.

What the fuck am I supposed to say to that? That I can't to think of the look of disappointment my dad will have when I tell them I've fallen in love with a client? A relationship that has been forbidden since the start of our family's business—the number one rule to being a Bookkeeper, and I've completely disregarded it to shit. I love Royce, but I would never be able to handle having to choose between him and my family if it came down to it. I would postpone that choice as much as I could. But tonight, I am slowly realizing that I may have waited much too long.

"Just give me a little more time, baby. Please…" I whisper.

"How much longer are you going to make me wait?"

I open my eyes searching for an answer. "I don't know, maybe—" My response is cut short when my eyes catch sight of my laptop… Turned on and open, sitting on the kitchen counter.

My scalp prickles as the truth I've been too ignorant to see smacks me in the face… _Oh, shit._

Royce's eyes follow mine and he jerks his head back to look at me.

Taking several steps back, I lift a hand to point but it's useless, he knows what I'm referring to. "What were you doing—?"

He ignores my inquiry as he slowly takes a step towards me. "We're going to tell your family. I'm going to be part of the business once we announce our relationship." He says methodically, as if he's been repeating it in his head for quite some time. It sounds clinical, like a fact—a weatherman reciting today's forecast.

I catch the way he says _business_ and not family. Like that's what it's been about.

"Even if we were to… You wouldn't be able to. You're a client."

"I'd be family." He sneers the last word.

"You know that's not how it works." My legs hit the side of the couch, halting a retreat I did not even realize I was taking. I guess it was my body's instinct to keep as far of a distance from his as possible now that his true colors seem to be bursting through this façade I have been stupid enough to fall for.

 _God… How did I not notice this before? How could I have been so_ naïve.

He barks out a laugh, unlike one I've heard before. It makes me jump at the abruptness of it. "You think I was patiently waiting to meet _Daddy,_ to what? Go to dinners and sit at brunches while your mother drones on about how lovely the weather is?... We could be good together, Rose. We could start our own books."

I stand there staring at him, wide-eyed and speechless. His eyes have a crazed glint to them I never caught, although I realize must have always been there.

We stand there for a few minutes. His calculating eyes roaming over my face as his chest rises and falls quickly with low, harsh breaths. My hand frozen over my chest as the other grips the side of the couch while I continue to attempt to make sense of this new person that has materialized in the place of the man I thought I loved.

Somehow finding my voice, I murmur "Royce…" Just like I always do when he gets like this—well, he's never gotten like _this_ , but when he throws these, for lack of a better word, tantrums. Usually he'll throw something and that will make him feel good for about thirty seconds, but then he realizes how he's gotten and turns remorseful. He's grabbed me hard and once pushed me, but it was always followed by hundreds of apologies and thoughtfully placed, tender kisses.

I'm at a loss as to how to handle him right now, though. In the past he's always been desperate, frantic. Now he's just manic and belligerent.

My voice does nothing to soothe him, but I keep going. "I think we should… Maybe take some time—a few days—to… Think things over."

He lets out a long sigh, shoulders slumping and looking defeated. I let out a small sigh of my own, glad this fight is nearing the end.

As he walks slowly towards me, I lean off the couch and look up at him. He places his hands on my shoulders.

I start to smile but stop as I realize his hands aren't still. They're creeping slowly towards my neck.

"Roy—" I have trouble finishing his name as his hands close tightly around my airway. I look at him desperately, trying to convey with my eyes and hands as I frantically grab at him that I can't breathe.

"You know… I didn't plan for it to come to this. I wanted you to want this. I wanted to you to bring me into the family and show me the ropes. I wanted us to be a team, become better. But you had to go and fuck it up, didn't you?"

I'm no longer grabbing at him but punching his arms uselessly as I try and force an precious air into my lungs that I can.

"I knew… I knew from our first meeting that you'd be easy to sway. You were my ticket out of this fucked up, shit hole of a business." He chuckles, "How many guys like me have a shelf life of more than ten years? Those who do are legends, and even now they're probably rotting in jail. We always get caught. I knew one day I was going to have to retire, I just didn't know when. Then you came…"

As he shakes his head at me, I swiftly bring up my leg in between his. He yelps in pain as he lets go of me. I heave and cough, rubbing my neck as I try and turn away from him.

"You fucking _bitch!_ " He bites, striking me hard across the face.

I'm knocked over by the sheer force of it, landing hard on the soft, plush carpet. He quickly brings up his foot and makes contact with my ribs, causing my eyes burn as I cry out. I look up and see the bottle of Cristal in arms reach on the coffee table as Royce kneels down beside me. Grabbing the neck, I swing it back towards his head, hearing the glass break with a satisfying crunch, I get sprayed with the cold liquid.

As he tumbles onto his back, I take advantage of the opportunity, picking myself up and snatching my laptop before sprinting back to the bedroom, slamming the door shut and locking it behind me. I toss the laptop onto the bed hastily and begin pushing the large wooden dresser in front of the door in a frenzy, panicked at what would happen if he were able to get through the door.

Panting, I jump across the bed and grab my cell phone off the charger before dialing the only person I could ever trust, urging my hands to cease their shaking and cooperate.

I let out sob as he answers on the first ring and I hear his voice.

"Rose?" He sounds alert and concerned. It must be three in the morning by now, and I'm sure he's been asleep.

"Edward," I cry. "I fucked up."

"What? What's wrong? Where are you?"

"I'm at the Fairmont in Vancouver—" I'm interrupted by Royce's loud banging on the bedroom door.

"ROSE! Open this fucking door right now!" His muffled yell comes through the door, and I'm sure Edward can hear.

"Can you come get me?" I gasp, crawling behind the night stand.

"Don't move. I'll be right there." He hangs up.

He must be home, I'm sure. If he is, he won't be here for at least six hours, maybe more if he can't find a flight out for some time. By which, I'm not sure if Royce will have knocked down the door or not.

I bring up my knees to my chest, sobbing into them as I listen to Royce relentlessly pound on the door.

Sometime, maybe two hours, later—after the constant stream of pounding and profanities—he gives up. I know he doesn't leave, though. I hear the soft clink of a glass hit the coffee table every few minutes. Like he's sitting on the couch waiting for me. I can almost feel his hard stare coming through the door. I shrink back against the wall and look away.

I fear of what will happen if Edward comes and finds him here. If something were to happen to Royce, we would need to involve my father. Given everything, I don't know if I'm ready for that level of shame yet.

"You should leave." I yell, wiping the fresh and old, dried tears from my face. "My brother's coming."

I hear the front door open and slam shut not two minutes after that, but still I can't force myself to move.

As I wait for Edward to come save me from this epic fuck up, I use the time to reflect on the past year with Royce. I scoff occasionally while thinking back on certain memories, growing more and more disgusted with myself that I let this happen. I should have known. I shouldn't have been so fucking stupid.

Hours later, when I'm sure I can't hate myself any more than I do in this particular moment, I hear a timid knock on the door that startles me.

"It's me, Rose."

I rise slowly, having more difficulty pushing the dresser back now that my blood isn't pumping with adrenaline. Unlocking the door, I keep my gaze low—too embarrassed to meet my brother's concerned eyes.

He grasps my chin between two fingers gingerly, his eyes hardening as they wander over my face and neck.

"What happened." He growls through gritted teeth.

I take a deep sigh and turn to sit on the bed, crossing my legs and clasping my hands together, making any small movement or adjustment to help stall just a little bit more before I am forced to start from the beginning.

 **BELLA POV**

I give Rose a few minutes to herself, but after that, I lightly place my hand on her arm to bring her back to the present. "Everything okay?"

She blinks several times before answering me, "Yeah. Just…" She doesn't finish her sentence, but I know she doesn't need to. I know she was having some sort of flashback to whatever troubled past she must have.

I wonder what could have fucked her up this badly to create a break in this stoic façade she's maintained so well.

"Thank you for the tea and, you know." I wave vaguely, suddenly embarrassed.

Her lips lift up on one side and I realize a second too late that she's given me a half smile.

She sets her now empty tea cup on the coffee table and stands. "I'll handle Edward. You take as much time as you need."

I nod, breathing a sigh of relief.

She pauses when she reaches the door, turning and looking slightly pained.

Quirking my eyebrow in confusion, but remaining silent, I meet her eyes.

"I… Like you. You're not like the others. You don't try and get me to like you, you just… Care about Edward and ignore the rest. Don't fuck that up just because of your past."

"I won't." I murmur, keeping her gaze, silently assessing the gravity of her words.

She turns back around and walks out, closing the door behind her without another word or goodbye.

I lean my head back, resting it against the couch and stare at the ceiling for quite some time, not ready to face anyone else yet.

Waking up slightly disoriented, I look around at the living room confused, before the events of the past week comes flying back to me. I groan, digging my face back into the couch pillow my head somehow managed to land on during sleep.

Dragging myself off the couch, I start to clean up before starting on… Dinner? Breakfast? What time is it?

It's only after my last bite of grilled cheese that I pick up both phones and plug them into their chargers.

I drum my fingers on the counter top as I wait for them to come alive, after which I'm not disappointed. They both vibrate and ring sporadically with text messages and voicemails.

Sighing, I choose one and respond to a message.

 _Hey. I'm sorry, I've just needed some time to deal with some old skeletons. See you soon? – M_

The response is almost immediate.

 _Let me know when you're ready, I'm here for you. – E_

I smile and blush, ignoring the slight butterflies in my stomach that I had forgotten about. Some part of me wants to call him right now and beg him to come over, but I know I'll later regret that when I have to explain away all of the bruises. I hope Rosalie can keep him at bay until they heal with whatever she's told him.

The next few days are agonizing as I try to wait for my bruises to fade well enough to not show under make up. I work from home, calling clients and pushing a few dates around while offering discounts and apologies—constantly checking the clock as time seems to be moving unbearably slow.

-**line here**-

I sprint back to the bathroom, checking over my face and neck for probably the 20th time.

I'm thankful for the crisp Chicago fall weather that allows me to wear a long sleeve sweater to cover the fading bruises on my arms.

It still hurts when I smile too hard or move my face around too much but not as bad as turning my neck in either direction. My sex drive hunches over, disappointed about having to wait that much longer to be with Edward again.

There's a timid knock on the door that makes my head snap in it's direction. I yelp quietly and caress my neck, annoyed with myself as I head over to open the apartment door.

I thought I'd be happy to see Edward—and I am. But right now, my eyes seem to want to look anywhere and everywhere, so long as they don't have to meet his.

"Hey." I murmur, picking at imaginary lint on my sweater while wondering where this sudden embarrassment came from.

He wraps his arms around me and brings me flush with his body. I turn my face into his thick, grey sweater and breathe in my favorite smell. It is hard to describe how Edward smells, but it seems to fall somewhere between minty, woodsy, and just plain clean.

"I'd thought you didn't want to see me anymore." He breathes into my hair.

I shake my head and pull my face back to finally look in his eyes. "No, of course not. I just… I had some things come up—I had to handle it on my own and took some time."

He doesn't push me any further, and thankfully doesn't ask any questions. His eyes just keep roaming over my face, and I can see the subdued happiness behind them as he tries to reign it in.

"You know I'll always listen." He smiles softly.

"I know." I lean in and kiss him softly.

"You hungry?"

My stomach answers this one for me. I laugh and roll my eyes, "Is it that noticeable?"

His eyes and shoulders tense slightly, "You just look like you haven't had a proper meal in ages. I'm here to rectify that." He turns around and leans down to pick up a few grocery bags.

I wiggle my eyebrows in an effort to add some humor and shift this conversation away from my sudden drop in weight. I couldn't have lost that much in a week, could I? Apparently, nothing gets past Edward.

I sit on the kitchen counter as I watch Edward make himself at home in my kitchen. He moves around confidently, only asking where certain things are before cutting, pouring, and mixing away at whatever delicious creation he is making.

"You missed a great party." He smirks.

"Oh, did I?"

"Yeah, Esme and Rose got a little too drunk and went from karaoke to full blown concert."

I snort into my wine glass—compliments of the chef—picturing Esme making an ass of herself while trying to picture Rosalie actually having a good time. "Oh my god. I would have loved to see that! Genre?"

"Oh, 80's and 90's pop hit's, of course. It somehow ended up being a Madonna tribute the more they drank."

"Damn… You think we could get them to do a repeat show?"

"I think with the right amount of alcohol and setting, we could get Esme to do a lot of things… Rose might take a little manipulating." He chuckles.

"Oh, I'm all too aware of how difficult she is." I smirk.

He looks up from a yellow bell pepper he methodically cutting into small squares. "She likes you, you know."

Rolling my eyes, I hop off the counter to refill my glass. "I know. She told me herself."

Edward freezes and puts the knife down, looking up at me with an expression of complete horror. "Oh dear… It's worse than I thought."

I giggle, pushing him with my hips while I uncork the bottle and gifting myself a little more wine than necessary. "You make her sound like a troll."

Edward does that laugh I love; the head tipping, full belly one that turns me into straight putty. I smile involuntary. "She's not, I swear. She's just… It's hard for her to warm up to people, that's all. She's very close to our parents and I and it's difficult to let some into our tight knit circle."

"I understand." I say, wrapping my arms around Edward's waist and holding him to me, feeling his muscles contract and move with the effort of cutting vegetables. "What are you making anyway?"

"Stir fry."

"Mmm… Sounds good… Looks good, too." I murmur while peeking over his shoulder.

I smile quietly to myself, happy that this little bump hasn't screwed things up between Edward and I.

-**line here**-

I pull into the flower shop's parking lot as I'm mentally calculating the flowers I need for Esme's auction tonight. Distracted as I go over what we've discussed, I completely miss Emmett's car parked in the nearly empty lot.

I roll my eyes at his theatrics. He could have easily called or waited until I saw him at the auction tonight, but I secretly know he enjoys thinking that he intimidates me.

Or maybe he misses me? I smirk at the thought, hoping that my brother is starting to defrost.

I carefully avoid any deep cracks in the cement with my heels as I walk to the store front and unlock the door.

"Evening, Em." I mutter, heading towards the fridge of white roses.

"Isabella." He nods curtly.

I sigh, disappointed that he hasn't dropped this bullshit running between us. "What brings you all the way down here to see little ol' me."

"We're breaking into their office. Right now."

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Hmm... I wonder what Emmett has in store. I will get this next chapter ASAP since you all were so patient with me.**

 **Hoping to get back in the motion of posting but I'll take it slow, so expect updates every 3-4 weeks. You can also see teasers of the coming chapters and hassle me by joining my Facebook Group, Trainwreque Tales (** /groups/191647358033809)

 **If you can't find it, just shoot me a PM and I'd be happy to get ya there!**

 **Let me know your thoughts! What do you think Emmett's going to pull next chapter?**

 **Reviews keep the world turning...**


	12. The Baby Oil Debacle

A/N:

Hello loves! So I was originally going to update on my way to Costa Rica but honestly it's so hectic traveling that it slipped my mind and the views over there are just so gorgeous you forget all about the real world... Then I caught a horrible virus from some bad tap water and I'm back home now! Couldn't wait to get this to you guys.

As always, thank you to my wonderful super mom beta, Kenz. She works wonders guys...

See you all at the bottom!

* * *

 _ **Previously...**_

 _I pull into the flower shop's parking lot as I'm mentally calculating the flowers I need for Esme's auction tonight. Distracted as I go over what we've discussed, I completely miss Emmett's car parked in the nearly empty lot._

 _I roll my eyes at his theatrics. He could have easily called or waited until I saw him at the auction tonight, but I secretly know he enjoys thinking that he intimidates me._

 _Or maybe he misses me? I smirk at the thought, hoping that my brother is starting to defrost._

 _I carefully avoid any deep cracks in the cement with my heels as I walk to the store front and unlock the door._

 _"Evening, Em." I mutter, heading towards the fridge of white roses._

 _"Isabella." He nods curtly._

 _I sigh, disappointed that he hasn't dropped this bullshit running between us. "What brings you all the way down here to see little ol' me."_

 _"We're breaking into their office. Right now."_

* * *

THE BABY OIL DEBACLE

"What?" I sputter, dropping the white roses I had grabbed from the cooler.

He makes a show of huffing in annoyance before repeating himself. "I said, we're going to break into—"

"No, I heard you. I'm just saying 'what?' to how the hell do you plan on doing so?"

"Well, I thought about it—"

"Oh, this'll be great." I mutter quietly to myself, but Emmett still hears and gives me a glare before continuing.

"I came into the office a few days ago under the pretense of bringing Edward and Carlisle some coffee and noticed they don't have any cameras in there. All they have is that bullet proof front door—very subtle security measures to not look suspicious. They do have some pretty high-tech security, but it's all focused on keeping people out."

"Yeah... People like us." I deadpan.

"Not exactly. I asked Jasper for the blueprints of this building and they did a little remodeling a few years back, but kept the same air ventilation system. All the vents in this lot connect to each other somehow."

"Uh huh..." I narrow my eyes a little, wondering how the hell Emmett plans on fitting through an air vent.

"I figure we could crawl through them. I memorized the way to go already."

"We? How do you plan on fitting through those things? You're like the size of two normal humans."

"I have an idea..." He rolls his eyes.

Cause those always have a stellar turn out.

"This is also the worst possible timing. We have somewhere to be in less than an hour."

"It's the perfect time. Look, everyone's back at Esme's getting ready for this. Whenever they're not at the office, one of us is either at work or with Rosalie and Edward." I notice how he says Edward's name like it's cursed. "We have to get the ball moving with this, Bella. The Volturi know someone's poking at their shit and we haven't figured out who the mole is."

"Okay, okay. Fine, yes, you have a point." I wordlessly wave my hands up at the air vent, signaling for us to start.

Emmett gets to work on pulling off the large cover of the vent, only taking a few seconds to get it off before he starts unbuttoning his shirt.

"What are you doing?" I arch an eyebrow.

"Well, I can't exactly get this shirt dirty. I'm wearing it to the party."

"Yeah, but if you knew we were going to do this, why didn't you bring a change of clothes?"

"I wasn't exactly thinking about dust bunnies when I was planning a way into the office." He scowls, folding up the shirt neatly and laying it on top of the counter.

"If you say so..." I walk to the back room, thankful for the extra shirt and leggings I have hidden away in the filing cabinet.

Once changed, I walk back out to find Emmett in only his underwear, rubbing a copious amount of baby oil all over himself.

"Okay. Now what in God's name are you doing?" I exasperate, not knowing how baby oil could possibly help the situation.

"This will make it easier for me to navigate through the vents. I won't get stuck this way." He says, seriousness plastered all over his face.

I surreptitiously slip my phone out of my purse and snap a picture of Em to send to Jasper later. I know all three of us are on rocky terms, but Jasper would never forgive me if I didn't record this moment in history. I also fail to tell Emmett what rubbing that baby oil on him will do, inwardly snickering at what awaits him.

"I'll go first. I don't want to crawl through the trail of baby oil you're going to leave behind." I say as I drag a chair underneath the vent.

Putting the messenger bag strap over my shoulder, I make sure it's securely shut before pulling myself up in to the vent with ease. I pause briefly, waiting for Emmett to come in after me.

"Alright, just go straight and take the first left." He mumbles once he's inside.

Every movement Emmett makes creates a squeak due to the slickness of his skin rubbing up against smooth metal. After a about a dozen squeaks, I can't contain my giggling anymore and let out a very unladylike snort.

"You alright back there, Rubber Ducky?" I snicker.

"Shut it."

After that, I only let out a giggle or two after an especially long squeak or when Emmett's hands become too slick and they slip, causing him to hit his head on one side of the vent.

We reach the vent that leads us down to Masen Accounting after fifteen minutes. It probably would have taken us less time if Emmett hadn't gotten stuck so often, having to wiggle out of tight spaces.

I peek my head out from the vent, making sure Emmett was right about Carlisle not having cameras. I slide out quietly once I determine there aren't any.

Mentally preparing myself for what I'm about to see, I turn around as Emmett rights himself up after having jumped down. I fail miserably in my preparation and bust out laughing when I see him.

The baby oil has acted as an adhesive, much to my enjoyment, and has him covered from head to toe in dust bunnies, dirt, and a few clumpy hair balls—one of which is stuck to the side of his face.

"Can you focus on the task?" Emmett scolds—but any seriousness is tainted by the amount of trash that's stuck to his half naked body.

"Sorry." I snicker, turning back around to see where we are.

For some odd reason, I had never actually stepped foot in here. It wasn't because I never wanted to, but Edward is always the first to come over for lunch and usually off before I am. There was never really any reason for me to come over to visit with him or Carlisle during work hours.

They have the office set up neatly with modern furniture that looks comfortable. There are two large, mahogany desks facing each other with two couch chairs in front of each one. Other than the small coffee table near the front with a few other couch chairs, the place is pretty bare. Edward and Carlisle's degrees respectively hang behind their desks and a few abstract art prints are displayed around the office.

"Are you going to admire the art work all night or are you going to help me look for what we need?" Emmett sasses me.

"Calm your tits, Agent." I gripe as I walk over to what seems to be Carlisle's desk after perusing the top for a few seconds.

"Which desk belongs to which accountant?" Emmett asks.

"That's Edward's." I point the desk he's standing at. "The name plate says Edward Cullen, but you can never be too sure." I finish with a smirk.

"It's facing away from me in case you didn't notice. That's why I didn't see it."

"Sssshhh..." I quiet Em, acting like I'm really focused on picking the lock on Carlisle's desk.

I've become a pro at picking locks in the past years, so it only takes me a few seconds to pick this one. The drawer opens like a door, which confuses me. When I peer inside, I see the same lock that is in Carlisle's home office that needs a fingerprint and passcode.

"Ugh, of course." I mutter, taking off the messenger bag and pulling out what I need.

It takes a few minutes, but I finally am able to pick up the correct fingerprint from Carlisle's desk that I can use for one half of the passcode needed. I place the code grabber onto the lock box and use the time to peruse any unlocked drawers he has.

The code grabber interrupts me from the opened mail I'm going through which seems less important than what's in the safe so I put the envelopes down.

ERROR! NO CODE! ERROR! NO CODE!

"What?" I muse, resetting the code grabber. That's never happened before. Usually Jasper's tech is pretty advanced and I never have problems with it. That guy could break into the Pentagon with a flip phone.

After I get the same error again I call Emmett over.

"This keeps saying no code, but the fingerprint alone won't work."

Emmett looks around the room for a few seconds—deliberating what, I will never know. He types in a code and presses the fingerprint copy into the scanner. It flashes red and remains locked.

"Huh..." He huffs, before typing in another code and the same flashing red. He tries this about four times before it flashes green and opens up to us.

My faces scrunches in confusion. "How did you—?"

"Cubs." Emmett states matter-of-factly, pointing to the baseball encased in glass sitting on Carlisle's desk. "Forgot they won last year so I keyed in the last time they won. Just the date, final score, and birthday of his favorite player."

"Men." I roll my eyes and turn my attention back to the open safe.

There are two long black, sleek boxes. They look like very long cigar humidors. After the Chicago Cubs password, I really would not be surprised if I found cigars in here.

Inside the boxes are three rows of USB sticks, all blank except a series of four numbers written on them in bright red writing.

I hold one up in between Em and I that has '0811' written on it.

"These are going to take a while to download... Would have been much easier if we weren't on a time crunch." I leer at Emmett.

"Let's just get what we can now, have Jazz sift through it and we'll come back when we get another chance."

"Fine." I shove the messenger bag and box at him irritably. I hate being rushed—you lose focus of the task at hand when you are paying more attention to the amount of time allotted. "You download. I'll snoop some more. Get what you can in the next fifteen."

I stand and let Emmett get to work on downloading the information on the USB sticks to the laptop from my messenger bag. I expect not to find anything, since the Cullen's don't look like stupid people that leave shit lying around in the open, no matter how amazing they are at keeping under cover. Still, I'd much rather be looking for something I know I won't find then staring at a computer screen downloading information which I'm sure is complicatedly encrypted.

I check the time, making sure we won't be too late to the party. "You've got five minutes, Em."

"I'm very well aware of the time, Isabella."

"Oh, excuuuuse me." I sass back to him. I hold off on snapping my fingers in a Z formation... That might warrant an eye roll and a snappy remark in turn.

Apparently, the sassy comment alone deserved to altogether be ignored. I sit myself down in Edward's chair, casually propping up my feet as I keep an eye on the darkening parking lot.

Once four and a half minutes pass, Emmett packs up the last USB stick and places it carefully back in the safe after he wipes his fingerprints off of the box.

"Let's go."

I shoot up from my chair, careful to place it back to how it was. I remember the mail I discarded on the desk and pick it up to put the envelopes back in order.

One of the envelopes catches my eye. It looks like a billing statement from the outside. The sender's name J.J Jenks, underneath his name are the words Marion Estates.

"Hey, Em... You ever heard of Marion Estates?" I ask while I eye the unopened envelope.

"Like Marion, Illinois?"

"I guess..." I eye the letter opener on Edward's desk. I shrug, mumbling to myself, "Fuck it."

I examine an opened envelope for a few seconds before determining how to go about opening the other. Sliding the letter opener in the exact same manner as I imagine Edward would, I slice through the paper.

"You just broke like three federal laws." Emmett dead pans.

I know for a fact that he could not care less about the laws we break and is just finding an excuse to talk shit.

Rolling my eyes, I slip the papers out. "We're breaking more than ten just by being here. Relax, Judge Swan."

He huffs, returning to the messenger bag to pack up the last of our stuff.

Opening up the letter, I ignore my brother and begin reading.

"Is it a letter from one of Edward's ex-lovers?" Emmett jokes.

"It's a rent statement." I murmur, too distracted to acknowledge is snarky remark.

"For what?"

"Some property in Marion, Illinois." I grab my phone from my pocket and take a picture of the statement before putting it back. "I sent it to Jazz. Come on, let's go."

I'm so entangled in my own thoughts that I don't let out a single giggle on our way back through the vents. What if the Cullens dabble in more than just bookkeeping? What if this is a stash house for drugs? The thought sends a shiver down my spine.

When we are safely back in the shop I send another text to Jasper to put a rush on finding out about the Marion property.

"There's a hose around back you can use to wash off. I'll leave now so we don't get there at the same time."

Emmett turns and heads into the backroom without another word.

Pushing thoughts of what that letter could mean out of my mind, I focus on the drive to the party. When I pull into the Cullen home I find a valet in the driveway.

The front yard is littered with canopy style tents and twinkling bright lights. There has to be at least a hundred people out here; glasses of champagne or hors de'oeuvres occupy the hands of cheery guests.

I ask for some help with the flowers before giving the valet my keys.

The front door is wide open so I let myself in, carrying a heavy vase of three dozen white roses. Most of my view in front of me is blocked, so I carefully walk towards the backyard, where Esme and I agreed this specific arrangement would go.

I lightly bump into something and back track a little.

"Excuse you!" A woman shrieks.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" I cry out, lowering the vase to get a clearer view of who I've run into.

A very tall woman with strawberry blonde hair and periwinkle eyes glares at me. She wears a sparkly dress that is uncomfortably bright—sticking out like a sore thumb in a sea of jeans, linen shirts, and colorful maxi dresses. I'm slightly reminded of Senna from the boutique downtown as I have to look up at her in the same manner.

But while Senna manages to make her height less intimidating, this woman uses it to turn her nose up and look down upon others.

"You'd think Esme pays enough to hire help with manners." She spits at me.

My eyes widen at this. Is she... Talking to me? I look around just to make sure her comment was directed at me.

"Look, lady. I said I was sorry. I barely tapped you. If you could please move out of my way so I can relieve myself of having to carry around this twenty-pound vase, I'd gladly appreciate it."

"You need to watch your tone." Her eyes narrow in contempt.

I quirk an eyebrow at this, "Oh, you're still talking?"

"Tanya."

Rosalie suddenly appears next to me, looking at Tanya as if she were a nasty bug on her red Porshe's windshield. And I thought she hated me...

Tanya's demeanor changes immediately to a more docile one. "Rose—"

"Rosalie."

Clearing her throat awkwardly at Rosalie's correction, Tanya continues. "Rosalie, I was just telling this flower girl that she needs to watch where she's going. She nearly knocked me over without so much as an apology!"

A very unladylike snort escapes from me.

Rosalie proceeds to place a hand on my shoulder, "Are you okay, Marie?" A dramatically concerned look on her face.

My scrunch my face in confusion, not used to this seemingly nice side of Rosalie. After our talk in my apartment, she resumed being indifferent to my presence, albeit acknowledging me just a tad bit more.

"Uhmm.." I look between Tanya and Rosalie, skeptical. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thank you."

Tanya lets out an irritated huff, apparently not liking how Rosalie is handling this. "You're free to go now." She waves a manicured hand at me, feigning boredom.

I do an exaggerated bow, managing it perfectly with the huge vase. "Yes, Mistress. Of course." I reply with sarcastic obedience before walking away.

I hear a chuckle come from behind me, and if I hadn't turned my head at the sound of it, I would not have believed Rosalie Cullen had just laughed.

Finally placing the arrangement on top of the grand piano in the backyard, I go to look for Edward.

Spotting a full head of copper hair across the garden, I smile as I make my way over to him, sniping a glass of champagne from one of the waiters. On my way there, more than a handful of people eye me curiously but I shake my paranoia off as being new in town. They must be wondering who I am.

Slipping my arm through his, I grin up at him silently.

"Marie!" He beams at me, leaning down to give me a quick peck before turning back to a short red headed woman he had been talking to.

She wears a long, flowing navy blue maxi dress with part of the mid-section cut out. She's very petite, but her full figure shows she works out. She embraces her natural beauty by wearing just a little mascara and proudly sporting the freckles on her face. There's something about her that makes me feel as if I know her or have seen her before.

"Siobhan, this is Marie." Edward introduces.

"The Marie?" She smiles warmly at me, extending her hand towards me. "Wow, he did not do you justice. You are much more gorgeous in person."

Relaxing shoulders that I hadn't known were tense, I laugh at her statement as we shake hands. "Well, I hope he at least mentioned how hilarious I am. There are details that you just can't leave out."

She giggles as she looks up at Edward, "I like her."

"Yeah, me too." He replies, smirking at me.

"Did you enjoy the show?" Siobhan asks.

I give her a confused look. "The show?"

"At the contemporary arts museum!"

I finally recognize her face. She was one of the dancers in the show Edward took me to on our first date. "Oh! Yes, it was so beautiful. I've never seen anything like that before."

"Thank you! I choreographed it myself." She nods proudly at me.

"Wow, that's amazing. How long have you been performing there?"

"A couple years. I do a lot more work through my company, though. But the museum is great, my team comes every season for a few weeks to showcase a new performance."

"Yeah, Edward was telling me how it's different every season."

She shakes her head as she looks up at him, "He never misses a performance. We met in high school and he's been my biggest fan ever since."

I perk up at the mention of Edward's past.

"Siobhan and I were both home schooled, but we both were part of the same art program here in town." Edward clarifies.

A woman with black, wild curls comes up behind Siobhan and laces their hands together. Smiling shyly at Edward and I.

"Oh, Marie, this is Maggie, my wife. Maggie, this is Marie. Edward's girlfriend." Siobhan wags her eyebrows playfully at Maggie as she finishes.

My back straightens at the word 'girlfriend'. Edward and I haven't discussed labels yet, so I'm unsure how he'll react to this. I glance up at him, slightly nervous, but he just laughs and says hello to Maggie.

"Oh, thank heavens." Maggie giggles, "I was getting a little worried there, Ed."

"Same here," Her wife agrees, "He hit a really long dry spell after the last one. Of course, I couldn't blame anyone, I'd need at least a decade to detox myself after that. But still, you had us a little concerned... Took a little too long to jump back on the wagon."

"Okay! That's our queue." Edward bursts, blushing as he turns me away from them. "Ladies, thank you for coming. I'm going to show Marie around now. Maybe when we get back you'll have your filters on."

I laugh at the shameless pair as we make our back into the house. "Why'd we have to go? I like them."

"I'm sure you do, but after another twenty minutes I'm not sure if I still would." He rolls his eyes but the gesture is followed with a small grin.

We run into Esme, who cackles with laughter at something Carlisle is saying. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes seem a little unfocused, meaning she's well on her way to being plastered. But her smile is as bright as the twinkling lights adorning the front and back patio, so I know she's enjoying herself.

She spots me and quickly makes her way over to Edward and I. "Oh, Marie! The flowers are just perfect, thank you so much!"

"I'm glad you liked them, thank you! This was actually my first local event that I had to cater."

"It certainly doesn't look like it, you are a natural. Come! Meet my dear friends." She invites, leading us to where Carlisle is standing with an older couple.

The man has peppered brown hair, while his wife has strawberry blonde soft curls with natural silver streaks in it. They're both dressed in white linen clothes and seem to be enjoying themselves as much as Esme is.

"Marie, this is one of my oldest friends, Sasha Denali, and her husband, Nate."

"Hi, so nice to meet you." I step forward and offer my hand, but Sasha swats it away.

"Oh, nonsense, dear." She scoffs playfully, scooping me up into her arms. "Any friend of the Cullen's is a friend of the Denali's."

Nate chuckles at his wife's cheerful nature but gives me a hug as well.

"Is this the Marie?" Sasha asks, beaming at Edward.

Christ, am I some sort of myth or something?

"Yes! This is Edward's Marie." Esme gushes.

"You two make such an adorable pair, I'm so happy for you!" Sasha nods gleefully at us.

I'm shocked that everyone here seems so genuine and nice—well, excluding one particular guest—but other than that, the Cullen's keep pretty pleasant company.

As quickly as her smile appeared, Sasha's face morphs into one of disapproval. Nate's eyes go from joyful to disappointed, the pair look like they've had their soul sucked out of them.

I briefly wonder what could have caused this reaction, but I'm not left pondering for long.

Tanya comes gliding in from behind me and saddles herself right next to Edward.

"Tanya, so nice of you to join us." Sasha says stiffly. "Marie, this is my daughter, Tanya." It almost sounds like she'd give anything in the world to deny her as such.

My eyes shift from Sasha, Nate, to Tanya a couple of times. How the fuck can someone like her come from people like them? I squint my eyes and tilt my head slightly, hoping that might provide some clarity—It doesn't.

Tanya then realizes who's standing in the company of her parents and narrows her eyes. "Marie?"

"Yes, Edward's girlfriend, dear." Her mother answers, unimpressed by Tanya's lack of knowledge regarding who I am.

I have to bit my lip to keep from cracking up, but I manage. Tanya's face is just too priceless as she gapes at Edward and I, then lowers her gaze at our joined hands.

"You're dating the flower girl?" She practically shrieks.

"I prefer Marie, but yes." I smile sweetly at her.

Tanya composes herself after a few seconds and leers at me. "I guess you prefer sloppy seconds, too."

"Tanya!" Nate hisses. "I know this may be difficult for you, as it always has been, but please try and behave yourself like a normal human being. You're embarrassing your mother and I." He places a comforting arm around a distressed Sasha.

A fleetingly look of hurt shines in Tanya's eyes before her sneer replaces it. "Maybe you should have brought your darling Irina instead." She snatches a new glass of champagne off of a tray a passing waiter holds and downs it in one gulp. "Excuse me, I find my company is needed elsewhere."

"Edward, why don't you show Marie the art we have showcased in the dining room." Esme murmurs, trying to do some damage control. I catch the small wink she gives him.

He nods quietly at her, placing a hand on the small of my back and wordlessly leading me over to displays.

From Tanya's comment, I deduce that she must be an old girlfriend of Edward's—probably the one Siobhan was talking about. I'm trying to think of good qualities Edward found in her when we come to stand in front of a clay statue, but come up short.

Edward gives me a shy look before speaking up after a few minutes. "I'm sorry about that. Tanya can be a..."

" An arrogant bitch?" I finish for him, knowing he would never utter the word.

He chuckles, "You said it, not me. I'm sorry about what she—"

I cut him off, placing a finger in front of his lips. "I know... And don't feel bad for not speaking up, because I know you do. You're too nice and would never disrespect a woman, no matter how many lines she crosses."

He smiles and kisses my finger. "Thank you."

"For?"

"For handling my ex-girlfriend way better than I thought you would. I found out she was coming here at the last minute and didn't have time to give you a heads up."

"Did you think I'd rip her hair out or something? I mean... I certainly thought about it, but I think that would have killed Esme's buzz." I shrug.

His head tilts back with laughter, "I'm sure she appreciates your restraint—that woman takes her buzz seriously."

"Please tell me she only got like that after you guys broke up?" I ask.

He raises an eyebrow at my question, silently asking me if I really want to talk about this. I offer a small smirk for him as an answer.

"Unfortunately, no. Although, it has gotten progressively worse over the past couple of years. I was young and stupid. I thought because our parents are such good friends that we were meant to be together.

"We were together very briefly in high school and again later in college when she convinced me to give it another go. I thought maybe getting older would change her, but I was mistaken. She's usually not this bad when Irina is around, though."

"Irina?"

"Her older sister. I don't know if you've noticed, but Tanya is the sparkly, glitter clad, black sheep in her hippie family. It's never been said, but you can tell that Irina is the favorite. She's always kind of been in the shadow of her brilliant, humanitarian older sister."

I frown after Edward's finished, understanding why she is the way she is. "That's so sad. I actually feel really bad for her."

Edward looks at me as if I've grown a second head.

Men. "It's obvious she's just jealous and bitter. Think about if your parents always compared you to Rosalie, and always put you down for not being more like her. That would start to weigh on you, and you'd actually start to believe you're not good enough if they keep telling drilling it into you.

"The Denali's seem like great people, but from the sounds of it, they need to realize that their children need to be treated equally and not compared to each other."

"You always manage to surprise me, Woods." He murmurs, leaning down and pressing his lips to mine.

"I'll take that as a compliment." I wink.

We both turn back to the statue to admire it. It's small, but still very beautiful. A woman sits on her knees, naked with her arms wrapped around her torso in mourning. I raise an eyebrow at the price tag listed below it… Surely that's three too many zeros?

Walking around the room in comfortable silence, Edward and I peruse the rest of the displays.

The last display, which is at the back of the room, has a few people crowded around it, all speaking in hushed, approving voices.

One short, older woman turns and catches my eye. Recognition dawns on her face and she nudges her friend. They both turn around and smile knowingly at me.

I shoot Edward a confused look, but he's too busy inspecting the chandelier above us.

After a moment, the few people disburse and I'm given a clear view of the art work they had just been praising.

It's me.

The watercolor painting Edward and I did together is front and center for everyone here to see. It looks so much more beautiful in the light of this room.

The portrait is not alone, however. Edward has added in two pieces to the collection, which stand on each side of the original painting—they're still of me.

The one on the right, done in watercolor again, is of my naked back as I sleep, my sleep ridden hair splayed across the pillow and down my back. A light blue sheet covers just my backside, my torso and thighs peeking out from the ends of it.

The one on the left has been painted using oil paint. It has me smiling brightly. My eyes are slightly wide in wonder and my cheeks are accompanied by a deep blush. I'm wearing a familiar dark blue dress and it takes me a minute to recognize it—the dress I wore to the museum.

I gather this was the look I gave Edward after the performance was over. My heart tightens at this revelation, knowing that Edward did this one completely by memory. I feel different about this painting then the one of me sleeping. He's probably seen me sleeping on many occasions, but this particular one of me beaming at him in excitement and amazement, he's only seen once.

"Wow." I breathe, unable to come up with more sophisticated words. Thanks, college.

"You're okay with this?" He asks, eyeing me apprehensively.

"What? Okay with this? Of course, I love it!" I launch myself on him, holding him close to me as I laugh. "It's perfect, thank you."

"They're not for sale." Is all he murmurs as he wraps his arms around me.

"I know."

We pull apart and my eyes find his work again. He is so talented, I'm sure he could have made this into a career had he not followed in his dad's footsteps.

Suddenly the sound of glass shattering interrupts me from my admiration, causing Edward and I to jump.

I turn around to see the source of the sound, noticing Emmett and Rosalie standing at the entrance of the room.

"Sorry! I'm so sorry, everyone. I have a bit of a firm grip." Emmett boasts, laughing indulgently. "I just don't know my strength sometimes."

Shaking his head, he bends to help the waiter pick up a few stray pieces of glass. When he stands, he gives the paintings behind me a fleeting, disapproving look before composing himself.

Shit.

He and Rosalie walk over to us smiling.

"Wow, these are great. You paint these, Edward?" Emmett asks casually, looking as if he's admiring the paintings. I'm pretty sure on the inside he's either furious or gagging. Probably both.

"I did, thanks Liam." Edward replies, smiling at his sister and Em.

I offer them a smile, looking around for some place to hide from my twin brother. Whatever progress we had made towards making amends has packed it's bags and hastily jumped ship by now. I picture it being picked apart by sharks, having drowned and drifted off in the ocean current.

This is going to be one long evening.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **What do you think Jasper's going to unveil in E & B's findings? Do the Cullens have a stash house? **

**Each review means a bright smile on my face!**

 **Until next time! ;)**


	13. The Secret Office Debacle

**A/N: Hello lovelies! I have bring you updates... :)**

 **I had to cut this chapter a little short since I didn't know where to end it exactly, so I decided at a certain point. As always, thank you to my wonderful super mom beta, Kenz. I'll see you guys down below! Just remember, Disclaimer: I still don't own twilight, sadly.**

* * *

 **THE SECRET OFFICE DEBACLE**

I rub my tired eyes as I sit at the counter, deciding on the arrangements I'd like to use for Sasha's party in a few weeks. The Denali's are celebrating the lunar eclipse happening at the end of the month.

After seeing what I did for Esme's charity auction, Sasha sought me out to cater her event. She wants only white, purple, and blue flowers. A task I am finding difficult in regards to which specific flowers go well together.

I've had a few conversations with Alice and did my own personal research, so I may finally have a good idea of the flowers I'd like to use.

But that's not what has me restless and stressed out.

For the past few nights, I haven't gotten much sleep. While Edward has managed to keep me up late, it's my own mind that hinders me from sleeping through the night. I haven't heard back from Jasper since Emmett and I sent him everything we downloaded. I'm anxious to hear what he's found.

He texted me last night saying he would call today, causing me to toss and turn even more so as I attempted to get more than one measly hour of sleep. The possibilities are endless as to what could be on the USB sticks, and what the mysterious rental property in Marion, Illinois holds.

The fact that he texted me at all had surprised me considering he's been silent since the night of the Cullen's charity auction. I suspect Emmett had some part in this—I saw his lips running a mile a minute on the phone during the party in the parking lot, and I don't think his flailing arms and beet red face were due to an employee's fuck up at the coffee shop... Maybe Jasper has just been preoccupied with the new workload? I hope for my sake it's the latter.

I sigh, staring up at the clock and simultaneously ignoring all of my work.

After another hour ticks by, my cell phone chimes the familiar tune by Kansas and I answer on the first ring.

"Finally." I gasp, scrubbing my eyes with the palms of my hands for the hundredth time today. "What'd you find out?"

"You and Emmett hit a fucking gold mine."

"Really!?" I shriek, jumping up in my seat with excitement.

"Took me three days to crack the encryption and another day to sift through what I found. Alice is pretty pissed I haven't been home much...

"Anyway, each one of those sticks holds an electronic file on the Bookkeeper's clients. All the information about where their money is, how they clean it, and where they invest it. It's going to take some more time to link each account with a name, they've hidden that well in these files. The numbers you guys found written on the sticks are the way they label the clients file. That's how they differentiate between them without actually having to open them. I still haven't figured out the significance of the number sequence, but I'm close I think. "

"Did you find anything on the Volturi?"

"That's the bad news. No. Although I can't tell which client is which, I'm familiar with a few things the Volturi have invested in and they don't match. They must be safeguarding that somewhere else. How much were you guys unable to download?"

"I don't know... Maybe ten more were left? Emmett got through a box and a half. There were only two."

"I doubt the Volturi file is in any of those... I also think this isn't their complete collection. Some of the sticks appeared to be of the spouses of some of the crime bosses or high-level henchmen, this can't be all their clientele."

"You think that place in Marion has the rest?"

"I do. It's not a listed business, but a storage unit of some sorts. I checked satellite footage and the property they rent is next to a self-storage unit. They use the security the storage company has so it shouldn't be too hard to get in."

I let out a sigh of relief. There's no way that place could be a stash house if it's in a semi-public place. There would be too much foot traffic coming in and out to not arouse suspicion.

"How soon can we get out there?"

"Tonight. Kate's all but lit a fire under my ass to get this case closed. Everyone's been on edge since the attacks. She wants this case closed as soon as humanly possible."

My stomach drops at the sudden speed this mission has taken... How much time do I have left here? "Yeah, me too..." I murmur, picking at a piece of lint on my leggings.

"It's only a two-hour flight, you guys should be back before anyone notices you're gone."

"Okay... So, do _you_ want to tell Emmett?" I ask sarcastically.

"Hell no! You tell him."

"What? Me? No—this was your idea!"

"He's _your_ partner!" Jasper all but yells.

"He's way less mad at you than he is at me, right now."

"I bet you he won't even answer my call."

"What makes you think he'll answer _my_ calls?!" I counter.

"You're the one with the puppy dog eyes!"

I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. This is what Jasper and I have succumbed to... Arguing like children over who will have to face our brother. I'm suddenly transported back to when Jasper and I cracked the windshield on Emmett's first car while playing catch in the front yard back in high school... After having it for only a week.

"You know what? I'll call him." Jasper concedes. "He uh, sent me… A picture of those _paintings_ , then ripped me a new one for allowing you to continue seeing the Bookkeeper's son. I'm pretty sure he'll be a lot more receptive to me than you right now."

"Ugh." I shudder in embarrassment. Now both of my brothers have witnessed me naked. Well not really, but the paintings certainly leave little to the imagination.

"He's quite smitten with you..." Jasper chortles.

I know we are no longer talking about Emmett.

"Yeah, well, that means I'm doing my job right, I guess." I respond, trying to keep my tone as casual and uncaring as possible.

"Just remember exactly that. It is your _job_."

"Yes, yes, I know."

"Sorry I couldn't come up with a cover fast enough. You're on your own on this one."

"That's okay, I'll think of something."

"Sounds good. Bye, Bells."

"Bye, Jazz."

I'm barely clicking the 'End Call' button when Edward walks in.

"It's 12:30 already?" I ask, surprised.

"What? You don't wanna see me?" He smirks.

I roll my eyes, "I always wanna see you."

"Good." He smiles but it falters a bit, "I have some bad news, though... I'm gonna have to cancel tonight."

"Tonight?" I look at him confused, we hadn't made any plans that I know of.

"Breakfast for dinner at my mom's place?"

"Oh! It's Wednesday?" I glance down at my table calendar.

Edward gives me a concerned look, "Where has your head been lately? You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry. With Esme's auction and now Sasha's party on top of all my other clients I've been swamped. Why do you have to cancel?"

"My dad and I are going out of town for a few days for business and we leave tonight. He thought he wouldn't need me but changed his mind at the last minute. It's a big deal with a huge client of ours and he needs this job done quickly."

I sigh inwardly, thankful that I don't have to come up with an excuse of my own to not come to dinner tonight. That along with Emmett's absence could have made the Cullens suspicious. Thank god the fucking stars aligned perfectly.

"That's alright, I think I can manage a few days away from you." I chuckle, giving him a wink.

He shakes his head at me, "I'm glad. I have to leave now to pack and head over to the airport, so I can't stay for lunch. I brought it over for you, though."

"Oooh, all the food to myself?!" I cheer, wagging my eyebrows at him.

"The fact that you are this excited right now kinda hurts." He smirks.

"I could give you a better farewell if you'd like..." I murmur, pushing myself against him as my hands find their way into his hair.

His eyes glaze over as he wraps his arms around me and angles his head slightly to give me better access to his lips. I take advantage and slip my tongue in his mouth as Edward reciprocates the action.

He groans after a few seconds and pulls away reluctantly. "I'd love nothing more than for you to do that, but I'm already running late as it is."

I chuckle up at him as I catch my breath—I really have to start working out again, this is embarrassing. "Well, you know what's waiting for you when you get back."

"I certainly do... I fly back in Saturday night. You want to do something? Late dinner?"

"I'd like that, I'll swing by your place when you land. Also, you've spoiled me too much already, it's time I cook for a change."

"Sounds like a plan. I'll be seeing you, Miss Woods." He winks and gives my ass a playful smack as I turn and walk away.

I let out a surprised yelp and shake my head at his antics. "You'll pay for that, Cullen."

"I'm sure I will." He laughs over his shoulder.

I send Jasper a text letting him know Carlisle and Edward are leaving out of town on business so he can keep look out at any airports in the area. There's no point in Emmett and I following after him, we already have confirmation they are bookkeepers. We just need their books, which we won't get by following them around but by figuring out where they keep them hidden.

He lets me know the mission is still on, and that we will use this time to also break into the secondary office Masen Accounting has in Chicago per Kate's orders.

* * *

I sneak a peek at Emmett as we drive to the storage unit.

He's white knuckling the steering wheel and staring straight ahead, having not said a word to me since we met up at the airport.

Before the auction party, it was easy to deny Edward and I had been sleeping together. But after seeing those paintings, there's no denying how intimate we've become with each other, which I think only further infuriates Emmett.

I'd like to bring up the fact that he's been the same way with Rosalie, but that will only warrant another screaming match. His hypocrisy only fuels my anger. I'm also sure _my_ anger has the same effect on him, which creates this vicious cycle of whatever the fuck this is.

He nearly slams on the brakes when we reach the end of the street I imagine the storage unit is on, making me appreciate a seatbelt like never before. Swiftly exiting the car, he doesn't even glance back at me to make sure I follow.

I grab the bag from the backseat and let myself out, glaring at his back as he walks ahead of me.

We reach the gates surrounding the property and Emmett silently gets down on one knee, lacing his hands together and giving me an expectant, condescending look.

I roll my eyes, strapping on the backpack and climbing the fence myself without his help.

He lets out a petulant sigh before standing up and following me over.

Jasper had told us there's no security walking around here, just a gate guard. We studied the location of all the cameras they have so we know where to go to avoid being seen.

Once we've reached the rental unit the Cullens own, I slide off the backpack and take out the code grabber.

Emmett and I stand in blatantly awkward silence as we wait. He occasionally walks around to see if the young security guard has moved from his post, but the TV show he's watching on the tiny computer screen has his full and undivided attention.

I don't know if it's because we're not talking or if it is just a complicated lock, but the minutes seem to pass by excruciatingly slow.

Finally, the lock beeps and Emmett lifts the steel garage-like door.

We're met with yet another door a few feet in which needs a card, passcode, _and_ fingerprint in order to be opened.

I grab everything I need before getting to work as Emmett closes the lift behind us, shining a flashlight on me so I'm able to see what I'm doing properly.

Putting a blank card in the fake card maker Jasper left me, I place the code grabber on the lock before searching for the fingerprint I have saved from the office in Chicago.

This will take a few minutes, but I'm thankful we weren't faced with a retinal scanner, which would have rendered this trip completely useless.

"You almost done?" Emmett grunts after twenty minutes pass.

"Almost... This card reader is hard to crack." I murmur, having been forced to take out my laptop to have better technology be able to make up a fake card.

"Jasper could have done this all in a few seconds..." He mutters to himself quietly, but due to the fact that we are in an enclosed space I'm able to hear him.

"Well, our dear brother Jasper isn't here, is he?"

"Hey, I'm there in spirit." Jasper protests in our ears.

I chuckle, having missed talking to my older brother on missions like this. Emmett being uptight with us has put a stop to Jasper's playful remarks.

I try the fifth card I've had to make, sliding it carefully through the reader.

"Got it!" I smile as the red light turns green.

Several loud clicks sound out as the room becomes accessible.

When we open the thick, steel door, Emmett turns on his flashlight and shines it into the room.

"What the fuck?" We both say in unison.

"What?" Jasper asks, his voice full of concern.

"It's an office." Emmett murmurs, confused. After a few seconds he shakes his head, having realized his slip in acknowledging Jazz, and clears his throat. "It's an office." He repeats, but in a gruffer tone.

Jasper and I both scoff at his feeble attempt at keeping up his pissed off demeanor.

Rolling my eyes, I walk in and flip on the light switch near the entrance.

It's weird how Carlisle has this setup.

It has the same exact furniture as his main office in Chicago, along with the same desks. But this office is a lot smaller than the others, and the desks sit only two feet apart. Tall, mahogany bookcases line three walls, standing more than ten feet tall, almost touching the ceiling. Bound manila and leather folders fill every shelf space, some shelves are so cramped they've resorted to laying some folders horizontally on the vertical folders. Everything is much more compressed in here than back in Chicago in the spacious office space, making it feel stuffy.

"What do you mean an office?" Jazz asks.

"It's not a storage unit—I mean it _is_ —but they don't use it as such. It's set up like the office in Chicago... Kinda creepy since they use the same furniture..."

"Maybe he uses that office when he needs to get away or something."

"Or _maybe_ , this is where his more elite clientele's information is stored." I offer while pressing Carlisle's finger print to the locked cabinet. Even with all that to get in here, he still finds the need to lock his shit up. The man is nothing if not thorough.

I grin wickedly when I find a new box with USB sticks inside.

"Found the other stash, Jazz. Downloading now."

"Sweet. Let's hope the Volturi file is in there."

Emmett peruses the bookcases—looking for what, I don't know—as I download each stick into my laptop.

"Catching up on your reading there, Em?" I grin.

Of course, he chooses to ignore me and slides a leather-bound folder off the shelf before he begins to read it.

"Why don't you check this desktop out while I'm doing this. You might find something—I doubt anything in paper form will be anything good since they didn't take the time to secure it." I suggest to him.

He nods before sitting in the plush chair next to me and turning on the monitor but still keeps a hold of the folder.

"I need in, Jasper." He says shortly.

" _Would a please be too much to ask for?_ " I hear Jasper mumble before continuing, "Yeah, sure. Just plug in your phone the computer and I'll take over from there."

Emmett stares at the desktop monitor while watching Jasper remote in and search through the computer. He then gets up to continue to look around.

I download the last stick and carefully close the box, wiping it down to remove my finger prints.

"All done. You find anything in th—" The sound of the lift opening outside the office rumbles in through the thick walls.

Emmett and I shoot up quickly, grabbing everything that's ours and putting everything that belongs to Carlisle back in it's place in less than a handful of seconds.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit." I whisper to myself, devising a plan as fast as I can. I hurry over and snatch the folder off the desk and tuck it under my arm before walking over to the shelf to the right of the door. "Quick, Em, give me a boost!"

I toss the book bag and folder up on the shelf as he kneels down quickly and helps me climb up. There's just enough space between the top of it and the ceiling for me to squeeze in. Whoever is coming in won't be able to see me from down below—the office being too small and the bookshelves being too high and thick.

I slide as far back against the wall as humanely possible, but peek over the book case before doing so. I see Emmett flick off the office light and hear a desk chair move across the cement floor quietly.

I pray that the large desk has enough room for Emmett to squeeze underneath. I try and calm my rapid breathing down at the thought of Edward coming in here to work, pulling out his desk chair only to find Emmett hiding under his desk.

As soon as Emmett slides the chair back into place, the doors locks click open and someone opens the door.

Flipping the light back on, they take a few audible steps into the office. I chance a peek over the top of the shelf very quickly, seeing only platinum hair. I sigh inwardly, relieved that Edward hasn't joined Carlisle in here but also wondering where he is… Is he already taking clients on his own?

The desks don't have name plates on them, which only causes my nerves to flare even more. If Emmett picked the wrong desk to hide under, we are completely and utterly fucked.

I make sure to take little and as small breaths as possible. My eyes are wide as I stare at the ceiling just millimeters from the tip of my nose.

I hear Carlisle scoot the couch chair back and sit, letting out a quiet sigh in relief after not hearing any complaint.

A beeping noise lets me know he's opened the tiny safe that holds the USB sticks.

"Hmm..."

I hold my breath, listening intently. Glancing over the top again, I see he's taken out his cell phone and is dialing with a slightly concerned look on his face.

"Edward, did you stop by the office before you left?... Huh, okay. No reason, I just... Never mind. How's Alistair?... Good to hear. With the amount of work we have to do moving around his money every few months, he should be paying us more. I don't know how someone so paranoid could be in this business..." He chuckles at whatever Edward says. "Alright, be safe, son. I'll meet up with you in a few hours... Yes, Aro's confirmed our meet." Heavy sigh. "He's pretty upset, but doesn't blame us. We did our job, the mistake must have been on his side... Okay, bye."

He stays at the desk for hours—or at least it feels that way. It might just be a few minutes, but I can't check the time without risking him hearing the ruffling of my clothes. It's definitely a good half hour judging from my legs starting to cramp up slightly from being so stiff and unmoving.

"Bella? Emmett?"

I nearly fall off the shelf before remembering Jasper is still in my ear, hearing everything. "Everything okay? What's going on?"

 _Fuck, we didn't say anything to him._

I stay silent, unable to give him update.

"If you guys don't say anything in the next ten seconds I'm sending backup."

As quickly and quietly as I can, I reach into my pocket and from memory open up my text message app on my phone, furiously typing before hitting send.

"What's 'cerlse inda iffre' mean?" He asks, confusion apparent in his tone.

I roll my eyes, apparently not having typed out ' _Carlisle in the office_ ' correctly. At least I was able to send him something. I press on two more letters, hoping I'm getting the right ones.

"Okay, seriously... 'IJ'?"

 _God damnit._

"Ohhh, _OK_... Good."

Finally, sheesh...

A few more minutes pass and Carlisle finally gets up. He walks around his desk and I _feel_ him right below me, my imagination running naked and wild through a burning forest as it believes he's looking directly at me.

Another "Hm.." Comes out of him and I hear him shift a few books around on the shelf.

He stands there for a minute, in silent contemplation, before I hear him turn and leave.

Even when he flicks off the light and the rumbling of the door closing lets us know he's gone, Emmett and I don't move.

We sit there for at least another half hour before deciding Carlisle isn't coming back.

"Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and all that is holy in this fucking world." I breathe out roughly. "That was so incredibly close."

"What happened?" Jasper asks as I slide off the bookshelf.

I jump and land on my feet with a loud thud. "Carlisle. He came in the office while we were finishing up."

"Shit, that _was_ close... Good work guys, get yourselves out of there. Glad you're okay."

I flick on the light and look over at Emmett who is crawling out from under the desk with a serious face.

"Yeah, we're on it." I murmur, climbing up a few shelves to retrieve the backpack and folder I threw up there.

When we leave the small office, we spend another twenty minutes trying to listen to what's on the other side of the lift.

"I think he's gone." I whisper to Emmett.

He nods and pulls up the lift enough for us to get through.

I don't know if it's because my heart is still pounding from almost being caught by Carlisle and I still have some paranoid thoughts lingering in my mind, but the entire walk to the car I feel as if Emmett and I are being watched.

I leave those thoughts behind as we pull away towards the airport in the car.

"Good work guys. Bella can you send me over those files you downloaded?"

"Yeah, I will as soon as I can."

"Talk to you guys when you land."

I gently pull on the ear bud and put it back in it's tiny case before slipping it into my pocket.

Checking the time, I see Emmett and I spent an hour too long in the storage unit due to the unexpected arrival of Mr. Platinum. Our flight leaves in twenty minutes and we're still about a thirty-minute drive away from the airport.

I give the airline a call and reschedule our flight to the next flight out at 7:00am.

Much like the trip here, on the return home Emmett barely acknowledges me. I honestly think he and Rosalie have a long-standing bet on how long they can ignore my very existence. _What a perfect couple._

As soon as the plane lands, my phone is already buzzing with an incoming call from Jasper.

"That was fast." I laugh standing and waiting for the other passengers to make their way to the exit.

"Bella. I need you home now. Emmett, too."

"Huh?"

"Just catch the next flight out, okay? I can't discuss it over the phone. You need to be here as soon as humanely possible."

"What's going on?"

"Just _DO IT_ , Bella!" He shouts impatiently, making me jump in shock. "And don't watch any TV on your way here."

"Okay, okay..." I answer uneasily. Jasper's never yelled at me my entire life—in fact, I don't think I've ever seen him yell at _anyone_. "No TV. Home ASAP. Got it."

"Thank you." _Click._

I shakily put my phone back in my pocket and look over at Emmett. "Jazz said he needs us home ASAP. Didn't give any details."

Emmett quirks an eyebrow at me, but still stands firm on his silent treatment.

I'm too anxious to roll my eyes at him, so I just file out of the airplane and book the next flight out to DC, which thankfully is in thirty minutes.

We have to pay extra, due to the fact that they only have first class seats left, but I don't bat an eye as I slide my credit card. I'm too preoccupied with what awaits us in DC. Jasper's findings must have been something terrible... Did Carlisle fake not knowing we were there and make us?

I wonder if the mission has been compromised because of our slight mishap.

When the flight attendant gives me the two tickets, I begin walking towards the terminal, but don't see Emmett anywhere in sight.

A light tap on my shoulder causes me to turn and see him holding up two cups of coffee.

He must have caught onto my nerves. I give him a small smile that he doesn't return, but I'm still hopeful. The fact that he's even offering coffee is progress in my eyes.

When we start walking together, the big screen TV at the sports bar catches my eye.

I glance at it, reading the headline quickly. I do a double take and suddenly my feet are cemented into the ground as my body forces my focus completely on the TV.

 ** _TWO CIA DEPUTY DIRECTORS MURDERED! CIA TAKING OVER INVESTIGATION..._**

I don't hear the coffee cup hit the ground or Emmett call my name. I don't feel the hot liquid as it burns the front of my calves or my brother's grip on my arm.

None of that matters to me as the news reporter notifies me that my father is now dead.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **I love a good cliffie! hehehe... I hope to not keep you all waiting too long for the next update. But until then, What do you think Bella and Em found in the Marion office? And what were Edward and Carlisle meeting with Aro about? Who do you think killed Charlie?**

 **I always love to hear your thoughts, all your reviews are very lovely. With my life settling down a bit, I'll be able to respond a lot better to reviews, which also motivates me to update faster! ... Until next time! ;)**


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